It All Started With A Letter
by Daintress
Summary: AU since HBP. Harry and Hermione prove that the best Slytherin for the job might just be a Gryffindor.
1. Introduction

Premise:

As some of you may recall from "A Likely Story," I'm all about realism. As a result, it was a real struggle for me to find a new way to go about Sev/Herm without sacrificing that in the process. What came out is a story about a lot of things – friendship, love, social labels, and truth. Severus and Hermione just ended up being the vessels to convey what the story is really about.

Also, in order to have some realism, and still pick up right after book 5 ends, it will naturally be quite some time before there is any interaction of a romantic nature between them. If you are looking for between-the-sheets action, allow me to, as always, recommend some alternative fics:

Just about anything by Dryad is sure to be well written, and move at a relatively fast pace. (Relative to my stories, that is. Possibly not relative to your internal time clock.) Or you could just skip to the epilogue of A Likely Story.

Now, without further ado, here's how it all started (with a letter)

**Introduction**

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_It has taken me some time to find the courage and will to write this letter, and I'm aware that it is long overdue. You are probably not interested in the long days and nights of thought that have made up my summer and brought me to this humbling situation._

_My behavior at our last Occlumency lesson was inexcusable. I have no defense, and hold no illusions concerning your forgiveness. I cannot say that I want it any more than I deserve it. What I can say is that I am desperately in need of the training. Though I still clear my mind each night, I have dreamt several times, as I am sure the Headmaster has mentioned. I got the impression that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't make you aware of the exact nature of the dreams, however. He was certainly adamant that I not do so, but after talking it over with Ron and Hermione, I've determined that you deserve to know. I know how I hate to be kept in the dark, and last year you were the only one willing to give me answers._

_The most recent dream specifically concerned you. I have no idea if it was real, and I was unable to block it completely, though I did manage to awaken myself before your face was revealed. I am aware that it would be disastrous should he discover that I was not surprised to find you in his presence (hence the security on this letter, courtesy of Hermione)._

_I bought several Occlumency books in Diagon Alley and have finished reading them. Thanks to that I think I managed to convey enough confusion upon waking to convince him that I hadn't recognized anyone._

_Although we have never gotten along, I am unwilling to be the cause, through my ignorance, of another needless death. It is for this reason that I am writing. The Headmaster is unwilling to teach me himself, presumably because he can least afford to be laid bare before Voldemort through me. I put to you that in your own position that is the lesser threat._

_I hope you will reconsider and agree to meet with me following the Sorting Ceremony. If this is amenable, please owl me. Hedwig will wait._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

"Should we leave off his last name, do you think?" Hermione asked, chewing nervously on the end of her quill.

"We should burn it. Harry's going to kill us!" Ron said firmly, and not for the first time.

"Not if he gives away his own location to Voldemort first and gets himself killed!" Hermione snapped, irritated by the need to continually remind Ron why this was important enough to anger Harry over. She was also painfully aware of just how closely he was leaning over the back of her chair.

Hedwig hooted from the windowsill, obviously anxious to depart. Hermione quickly cast a spell on the parchment, causing her handwriting to turn into Harry's. It had taken half the summer just to find that spell, but it would be worth it if Professor Snape would give Harry another chance.

"We're going to have to tell him before we get off the train, at the very latest," Ron commented, already trying to work out how best to keep himself and Hermione from being hexed for this. "And Ginny should be in the compartment with us. He won't want to lose his temper in front of her. Maybe Neville, too." Hermione nodded as they watched Hedwig fly away. It was going to be a long school year.

* * *

Severus Snape reread the morning's solitary piece of mail for the third time before jumping to any conclusions. Then he jumped headlong. He threw his napkin vigorously into his eggs and pushed back his chair to depart. Of course he'd felt the concerned gaze of the Headmaster as he read, but he didn't give the twinkling old fool the satisfaction of returning it. There would be too much anger in his eyes, and Dumbledore would be sure to know whom the letter was supposedly from.

Supposedly. But the language was wrong. Too formal. Not nearly petulant enough for the childish, arrogant prat that was Harry Potter. It took only a moment, once he'd reached his desk, to cast the spell that revealed the true author. He would recognize that handwriting anywhere. After all, he had to read nearly twice as much in that handwriting as any other single student's.

So the little know-it-all thought he should give Potter lessons again? He found himself intrigued. Firstly, that Potter had not given her the 'remedial potions' excuse as he was supposed to have done. Secondly, and a smirk crept across his face as he thought of it, had she warned the hapless Gryffindor what she'd done? He thought not. In fact, were it him, he'd wait until the last possible moment to tell him, considering Potter's volatile temper in the past year or so. Without another thought, he pulled a piece of blank parchment from a drawer with a flourish. He would have his satisfaction for this little – stunt. But as he began to write, another thought occurred to him.

The know-it-all was right.

* * *

Harry Potter was sitting in his room. It was August first, his birthday only one day gone, and he'd just gotten a letter from the Headmaster explaining that the Burrow was still off limits this year. And as he had no desire to spend the rest of the summer in Sirius' house, he'd responded that he'd be glad to just stay with the Dursleys. He was meditating that 'glad' had perhaps been the wrong term. Though Aunt Petunia had opened up a bit after last summer's talk about Voldemort, Uncle Vernon was worse than ever. He hardly ever let Harry into the house if he could help it. The long walks to the park that Harry had enjoyed during previous summers were now enforced absences. He supposed it was because his Uncle had finally discerned that trouble followed Harry like a starving puppy. Harry himself had come to the same conclusion years ago.

He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling as the light from the window faded. He had no real desire to sleep, but knew he couldn't stay awake again. As a special birthday treat, he had allowed himself a wakeful night last night to avoid the dreams, but now he was exhausted. He purposely cleared his mind as Professor Snape had instructed him, trying to ignore a sense of foreboding as his eyes fell shut. He'd not had time to truly fall asleep, however, before there was a knock on the door downstairs. A loud, demanding, rather obnoxious knock. It was plainly not one of the neighbors stopping by to gossip about Mrs. Garris' prize tulips. Curious, he climbed out of bed and headed for the stairs.

Just as he reached the bottom, he heard his Uncle Vernon. "Now wait just a minute! You can't just barge – " the beefy fellow was cut off by another voice, one that Harry recognized all too well.

"Potter? Get your things, you're coming to Hogwarts."

A quick glance around the corner confirmed that Professor Snape, in full wizarding robes, was standing in the living room, obviously uninvited. "Hurry up!" he snapped, upon seeing Harry.

"Just a second!" Harry replied, startled, as he trotted back up the stairs for his trunk. He wondered whether this was really an improvement. He had no idea, of course, that his least favorite Professor was contemplating exactly the same thing as he waited, keeping a wary eye on the older man before him. In the end, however, it was not Vernon who did anything surprising.

"I recognize you," a twittery voice said from his left. Turning, he took in the sight of Petunia Dursley, clean apron and heels still very much a part of her evening wardrobe. He would have smirked, but he had a nasty idea why she might remember him. Sure enough, she continued, "I saw you once at King's Cross and you said something to my sister that made her cry."

Severus suppressed a wince. "I recall that, madam. And if I recall correctly, you laughed, though you could not have understood the insult."

Vernon was watching the exchange incredulously, his gaze bounding from one to the other. He'd never really associated his precious wife with that sort of unnaturalness. Severus resisted the urge to snap at the man to close his gaping mouth. Petunia seemed at a loss. Finally she mumbled, "Perhaps we have both grown up since then." Severus acknowledged this statement with a slight incline of his head. A moment later, Harry appeared, his trunk floating serenely behind him, and Hedwig's empty cage in one hand. At this sight, Vernon's control snapped.

"What are you doing? You know you aren't allowed to use that – that I thing /I in this house!" he exclaimed, a shaking finger pointed towards Harry's wand. He advanced on Harry menacingly, but was brought up short when Severus replied from behind him, long before Harry had thought of what to say.

"Mr. Potter was given _special permission_ to perform magic outside the school after last summer's dementor incident," Snape informed them smoothly, his distaste for Harry's new privilege quite obvious. "He may use his wand wherever he chooses. Stand aside." He swept past Vernon and placed one hand on the trunk, pulling out a port key with the other. "When you're ready, Mr. Potter," he said impatiently.

"Bye," Harry said, lifting his hand to touch the object.

"Goodbye," came Vernon's gruff and grudging reply. It seemed he was unwilling to have yet another adult wizard explain courtesy to him, not that Severus would have done any such thing. Petunia waved shortly, a tight smile gracing her avian features. And then they were gone.


	2. Getting a Few Things Straight

**Chapter 1 – Getting A Few Things Straight**

The walk back to the castle was distinctly unpleasant. Severus had already decided not to mention the letter as a reason for why he had fetched Potter early. He did, however, have a willing alibi in the Headmaster, who had been nothing short of delighted to hear that Severus had given in on the Occlumency issue. And he intended to use that to his full advantage.

"Professor Dumbledore has decided that your summer is best spent learning Occlumency. As there will be no classes, Quidditch, or classmates to distract you, I will expect better results," he said, preemptively.

Harry had suspected that this might be the reason for Snape's sudden appearance. He certainly couldn't imagine any other reason why Dumbledore would send his least favorite Professor to get him. He swallowed hard, and replied, "Yes, Sir," trying to sound less aggravated than he actually was. He must have succeeded, because Snape turned to him sharply, as if to verify what he'd heard. Harry forced his eyes to the ground.

Ever since he'd seen the pensieve the previous year, two strong and conflicting thoughts had been racing through his mind. The first was that he should never, EVER have looked in there. The second was that he wished he could have seen more of his father and mother. Side by side with the guilt and desire those thoughts brought him, was a deep melancholy over Sirius. He'd barely known him, barely had a chance to GET to know him, yet losing him was almost worse than not having any parents. And he'd had over a month to dwell on these thoughts. The letter Hermione had sent on his behalf had been little more than a succinct rewording of all the bits and pieces of pain and guilt and anger that his letters to her had shown, though she'd left out a good bit of the anger.

They made it to the castle door in silence, and Severus could hardly believe his luck. He'd been expecting a barrage of angry questions: I Why couldn't Lupin have come to get me? - Why can't I stay with the Weasleys? - Why do I have to learn from YOU/I But they never came. So, as the castle door closed behind them, he was required to speak again.

"You'll need to see Professor McGonagall to let you into Gryffindor Tower. I'll expect you in the Great Hall for breakfast with the staff at 7. Following that, we will meet at the lake." Without waiting for a response, or bothering to instruct him as to Professor McGonagall's likely location, Severus swept toward the dungeon stairs. He came to a sudden halt, however, as Harry called after him.

"Thank you, Professor."

His instinct was to turn and sneer, however he reminded himself that a lot was riding on Potter's state of mind just now, not least his own survival. He forced himself to turn slowly. "Indeed," was all he said. Then, with a short nod, he made his escape to the dungeons.

Harry stood for a moment in the hallway before beginning the climb to get to Professor McGonagall's office. He knew he could do this. He would spend the night re-reading the Occlumency books he'd purchased, and just hope for the best. That's all he could really do.

Breakfast was a heartening affair, in spite of the fact that he was the only student present. He was welcomed warmly by almost everyone still in the castle, which included only Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid. Everyone else seemed to have vanished. Oh, and Trelawny, but she didn't come downstairs. Harry ate well for the first time all summer, and found that the pressure of grief in his stomach eased marginally once his hunger was sated.

When Professor Snape stood to leave, Harry did as well, excusing himself to Hagrid, who had begun talking excitedly about the lime green Fwooper he was expecting delivery of in time for classes. They walked side by side to the lake, and it didn't occur to Harry that Severus, being still a head taller, had to measure his stride in order to accommodate him. The lake was still, the squid having not yet made an appearance to bestir the surface, and Harry drank in the sight of the reflected sky and clouds. He'd been gone only a month, but had missed Hogwarts a great deal, in spite of everything that had happened the previous year.

"Now, then," Professor Snape said sharply, cutting into his thoughts. "I don't believe that the procedure was ever properly explained to you the last time."

"Nothing was explained to me last time, you just attacked me," Harry pointed out sullenly, anger sparking instantly in his eyes.

The spark was mirrored as Severus snapped back, "SILENCE!" Then he stopped, turned his head to the side a bit, as if considering, and continued, his voice once again the low tone of disapproval to which Harry was accustomed. "I had hoped that, after your first abysmal attempt at defending yourself, it would occur to you to go to the school library and check out a book or two on Occlumency. Failing that, however – " he was just about to offer to explain the basics when Harry spoke, just as Severus had intended him to.

"I did – er – I mean, I have, since then. I read all the books I found in Flourish and Blotts after school was out," he stumbled over his words in haste, trying to get it all out before Snape had a chance to snap at him again.

"Indeed? Well then, perhaps we should start with you telling me what you've discovered so far." With that unusually forgiving statement, Snape gestured to the grass in invitation as he himself sank down onto it, robes falling into immaculate folds around him. Harry was very conscious of his baggy jeans and tee-shirt as he sat as well.

There were a few beats of silence, and Harry's eyes were focused somewhere out over the lake when Severus grew impatient. "And which books have you read?" he prompted testily. Harry's head snapped guiltily back toward him.

He rattled off the first three titles quickly. "Er - Your Mind Is Your Own, by Bennett, Alone In Your Head, by Hampton, Minding Your Mind, by Gingerich, and – " he hesitated, "Well, Lockhart wrote one, but I didn't buy it," he finished lamely.

Severus suppressed a sigh. So Potter hadn't purchased his own book, in spite of the fact that every book he named had cited his work as a reference. He was certainly going to have his work cut out for him. He was just shuddering as he contemplated how to go about being I nice /I to the boy as he told him to get back to the library and FIND more to read, when Harry swallowed audibly and continued.

"And Betwitching The Mind, of course. That was the first one I finished," he admitted quietly. He'd not really wanted to tell Snape that he'd read his book. It sounded way too much like something Hermione would say. Yet for just a moment, a look of approval stood out on his Professor's harsh features. It was so foreign, and so fleeting that Harry thought he'd imagined it at first. It was only much later as he lay in bed that he realized that it was only natural that Snape should be pleased to hear that someone had read his book. He'd obviously put a great deal of work into it, and even Harry had to admit that it was a better practical guide than any of the others he'd read.

The morning was spent talking over theory in somewhat less stilted tones than they'd begun with, and carefully avoiding one another's eyes. By lunchtime, Harry was truly beginning to feel as if Occlumency was something he could understand and master. Certainly if Snape carried on with being this – well, perhaps not pleasant, but certainly civil - it wouldn't even be such a chore.

The afternoon was his to do with as he chose, so naturally Harry dug out his broom and headed for the Quidditch pitch. He didn't come in until dark, and then only because Snape had set him some meditation practices before bedtime that he wanted to try. Now there was an odd thought: he actually WANTED to do the homework Snape set him.

* * *

Harry awoke in the morning as though someone had snapped two fingers under his nose. His whole body went rigid and his eyes popped open, but he didn't move. Light was streaming into the room, and through a gap in his bed curtains that he hadn't noticed the night before. He took inventory carefully. There were no sounds from the room at large. His fingers and toes all wiggled properly. He could see the ceiling just as well as usual (which wasn't particularly well, as his glasses were still on the bedside table). What was wrong then? For something certainly felt wrong to him.

Slowly his muscles unclenched, and he allowed himself to notice the pleasant warmth of the sheets around him. He sat up and put on his glasses, swinging his feet onto the chilly stone floor. That's when it hit him. No dreams. There hadn't been a single moment of the night when he'd woken in a cold sweat, or shouted himself awake. He could remember nothing at all after performing the meditation exercises Snape had recommended. He turned his head each direction, then gave a whoop and shot across the room, anxious to be dressed and headed downstairs to tell Snape.

Several minutes later he careened into the Great Hall at top speed, only to see that the Professor he was looking for was surrounded by several others with whom he was not quite ready to share his success. After all, it might just have been a fluke. Voldemort had to sleep sometime, right? Maybe he'd finally taken a night off or something. He checked his speed and plopped himself into a chair beside Professor Flitwick, cheerfully passing the syrup when asked, and completely oblivious to the long-suffering look Severus exchanged with the his Head of House.

On the way to the lake, Harry was silent. Somehow he just couldn't bring himself to talk to Snape about what a good night it had been. It had occurred to him during breakfast that it might sound too much like bragging, and the prickly Professor already thought him arrogant.

Severus, for his part, was eyeing the boy carefully. Obviously something had gone right, or he wouldn't be bouncing on the balls of his feet as he walked. Perhaps flying yesterday had put him into a better mood. They lowered themselves onto the grass as before, and this time Severus noticed Harry's discomfort over his clothing. "Potter, why don't you wear your Hogwarts robes?" he asked caustically. "Those are obviously too big for you." he gestured at the tightly belted jeans and huge tee-shirt that was all Harry had with him.

"I tried," Harry said defensively. "They're four inches too short and they look ridiculous."

Snape gave him a smirk as if to imply that they couldn't look worse than what he was currently wearing, however, there was little malice in it. Had no one taken the boy shopping? Hiding an uncomfortable twitch in his stomach, he asked him.

"Er – No. The Dursley's wouldn't ever go to Diagon Alley. I usually go with the Weasleys," Harry responded quietly, looking away from Severus' piercing gaze. It was never pleasant to admit such a weakness in front of the enemy. Harry flinched a little in guilt over that thought and looked back at Snape. He wasn't really the enemy, or at least, not the one that mattered. To his surprise, the Professor looked thoughtful.

"You have your book list?" he asked sharply when Harry caught his eye.

"Er- yes. Professor McGonagall gave it to me when I arrived."

"Get it. We're going to Diagon Alley." With that terse command, Severus stood up. 'Incredible,' he raged silently. 'The foolish muggles are housing the world's most famous wizard and treating him like a nuisance they can't be bothered with.' Of course he could read between the lines. He'd seen how the much the boy had eaten yesterday, and it couldn't be denied that he was looking decidedly thinner than he had at the end of last term. He wondered briefly how the Headmaster could allow it before he caught himself. Was he seriously considering that Potter's relatives should be I told /I to be nice to him? By whom? The Headmaster had never stepped in when Severus himself arrived back from holiday with bruises. Why should he do so for Potter, who didn't appear to actually have been harmed?

He shook his head and made for the castle. There were some things he could get in Diagon Alley today as well, and he needed his list. "At the castle doors in one hour, Potter," he spat, his disgust with his own thoughts coming through in his voice. He swept down the dungeon staircase without looking back. Harry, puzzled and annoyed as he wondered how he'd managed to anger the nasty bat this time, trotted up to Gryffindor tower for his bag of galleons and book list.

He was waiting impatiently when Severus appeared at the top of the staircase exactly an hour later. Wordlessly, they walked into the Great Hall. Severus handed a pouch of floo powder to Harry, who took a handful and stepped into the huge fireplace, calling, "The Leaky Cauldron," in a clear voice. Severus was a bit taken aback by this. He usually flooed to – oh. Realization dawned. The apothecary in Knockturn Alley was not a place Potter would likely be familiar with. Suppressing a wry grin, he followed him to The Leaky Cauldron.

Appearing in a cloud of black soot was not Severus Snape's preferred entrance, however he cast a cleansing charm over his robes, and then, eyebrow raised in distaste, over Harry as well, who'd obviously just picked himself up off the floor. With a knowing glance at the bartender, he put a hand roughly to Harry's shoulder and steered him toward the back door.

"Flourish and Blotts, Potter," he said crisply, striding in the bookstore's direction.

"Naturally," Harry muttered under his breath, not really caring if his angry tone was overheard. He'd spent the whole hour of waiting trying to determine what he could have done wrong this time. But he could think of nothing. Perhaps Snape was still angry at having to teach him, but it had seemed yesterday as though they would be able to get along.

In Flourish and Blotts, Harry saw several people he recognized. Terry Boot was getting his books as well, and Harry waved to him. Terry grinned and held up the fake galleon that had served as the signal for the DA the previous year.

Alarmed, Harry shook his head quickly and gestured to Snape, who appeared to be lost in reading the book titles in the Potions section. Naturally Snape knew all about the DA. Everyone did, now. But Harry didn't think that it would be wise to remind Snape that Harry had spent most of last year teaching the only useful Defense Against the Dark Arts course that Hogwarts offered. That was bound to stir the bad blood that was already between them.

He turned away from Terry and climbed the stairs, heading for where he'd found the Occlumency books the last time, and intending to purchase any new ones he saw. There was only one, and he carried it back downstairs with him, surprised to find Professor Snape already standing with his arms full of sixth year textbooks. "Find them all?" Snape asked, his voice not quite unkind.

Harry nodded and Severus noticed idly that he had, yet again, not purchased Lockhart's book. He smirked and turned to place Harry's books on the counter. Among them were several defense books that had not been on the book list, but Harry bit his tongue, rather than mention them.

The time at Madam Malkin's was the worst. She had always made a fuss over him, and Harry had always found it aggravating. But today, with Snape as an audience, Harry found it downright embarrassing. It didn't help that halfway through the process, Malfoy sauntered in. He noticed Harry first.

"Alone again, Potter? Or is that miserable oaf of a I game keeper /I waiting for you?" Malfoy sneered, purposely ignoring the fact that the game keeper in question was also a Professor. Harry was about to point that out when someone else spoke on Hagrid's behalf.

"If you're referring to your Magical Creatures Professor, Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you speak with a bit more respect," a smooth voice said from the vicinity of the door Malfoy had just slammed. The fair-haired boy turned, hiding his surprise behind an ingratiating smile, one that had gotten him out of trouble with even the unbending Professor McGonagall. It did him no favors, however, with Snape.

"Sorry, Professor," he said immediately, not sounding at all contrite. Snape only nodded shortly. Then, when Malfoy didn't immediately turn away, the aggravated Professor gestured imperiously toward the witch who was waiting to fit the boy for new robes. Malfoy took his place on the block, finally looking somewhat chastised.

"So you're here with Professor Snape, then?" he asked Harry snidely out of the corner of his mouth. Harry nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. It had been all he could do to keep his silence – his anger on Hagrid's behalf was as easily provoked as it had ever been. However he could see Snape's profile against the bright window. He was being closely observed, and he didn't wish to give the Professor any further reason to dislike him. He said nothing.

"What's the matter, the Weasleys couldn't afford the floo powder to drag you along this year?" Malfoy was starting to get annoyed, as Harry continued to stare straight ahead, obviously gritting his teeth, but not rising to the bait. "Or were you so overcome with grief that Dumbledore put you on suicide watch?" Malfoy knew he'd struck gold when Harry wheeled around, wand in hand.

Madam Malkin was thrown off balance and landed on her rear with a heavy thud. "Now, really!" she exclaimed, picking herself up inelegantly.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor Snape said angrily, striding forward. "Enough." Malfoy was smirking in challenge, but Harry reluctantly returned his wand to the pocket of his jeans, his jaw set. He didn't know why he was surprised that Snape had taken Malfoy's side. After all, that was how it always happened. It didn't matter that Malfoy had been baiting him. It didn't matter that he'd put a good deal of energy into resisting, either. In the end, in Snape's eyes, Harry had been weak, and revealed that weakness to Malfoy. The thoughts came to him in a sudden flash of understanding, and just as quickly, he realized that they weren't his own. He tried, feebly, to put up the Occlumency shields he'd read about.

To his surprise, an odd look passed over Snape's face. "Hold still, both of you," Madam Malkin scolded, having regained her feet. With a muttered word, she lifted Harry, block and all, and placed him several feet away from Malfoy. When Harry looked back at the Professor, there was no trace of whatever he'd been thinking. The features that were so familiar to him looked as harsh and unrelenting as ever, which Harry thought was just fine, as Snape was now talking to Malfoy.

"Do not be a fool, Draco," Severus whispered convincingly. "Whatever you feel for him, it is not wise to show enmity to the acknowledged savior of the wizarding world."

Draco looked mutinous, but Severus continued anyway. "Do not burn bridges until you have made your decision."

"That bridge was burned first year and not by me," Draco shot back harshly.

"Was it? Are you so proud that you'll never offer your hand to him again?" Severus' voice was bleak. Draco had told him about the incident on the train as soon as he'd arrived in the Slytherin common room that night. The boy had been near tears with humiliation. Imagine, a MALFOY being turned away by Harry bloody Potter. Obviously the embarrassment of that was still following Draco around, six years later.

Draco glared over the Professor's shoulder at Harry, who was purposely not looking at them. "I don't know," he whispered finally, his voice tinged with defeat. "If it's the only way."

"It may well be," Severus whispered, nodding in approval. "Bear that in mind when you're deciding whom to hex next month." With that tight-lipped advice, he turned back to Harry. "Are you quite finished?" he asked Madam Malkin impatiently, his voice once again at it's normal timbre.

"Nearly, Professor," she answered, ignoring his caustic tone. She had, after all, dealt with him since he was a boy himself. Harry ignored him as well, though his face was flushed. He was amazed to find himself somewhat angry over the whispered conversation that had just taken place. Had they been talking about him? Making fun of him together? Or was he only upset because it seemed so easy for Malfoy to talk to Professor Snape when it was so difficult for him?


	3. Love Unrequited and What Comes of It

**Chapter 2 – Love Unrequited and What Comes Of It**

"As we discussed, I will begin by looking for information about Mr. Weasley. The Dark Lord is likely to target specific information rather than trying to glean whatever you are currently thinking of." It was quite windy as they sat, facing one another, by the lake. Yesterday had been wasted on shopping, and Professor Snape seemed anxious to begin. Harry, though still annoyed by his Professor's obvious camaraderie with Malfoy, put yesterday out of his mind. "As before, on the count of three."

Harry braced himself physically as well as mentally, but Severus stopped counting at two. "Potter, that is possibly the worst expression I have ever seen on your face. Do try to look as though you are not about to cry." His usually vicious voice was in no way diminished, and Harry felt himself flush as he opened his eyes. When he looked angrily up at his Professor, though, something occurred to him.

"You do it on purpose," he said after a moment, and it wasn't a question. "You goad me on purpose to make this more difficult," Harry clarified.

"Indeed. I daresay the Dark Lord will not be whispering sweet nothings in your ear, Potter," Severus responded dryly, rather surprised that Harry had finally figured it out.

"Well, don't!" Harry responded angrily. "Let me learn it first, then make it harder! What good is it if I can't even think properly to learn it!"

"SILENCE!" Snape shouted, rising fluidly to his feet. "I will decide how it is best for you to learn. What you lack, Potter, is discipline, not talent. The only thing standing between you and this ability is your own temper."

"You're one to talk," Harry replied, also having risen. "You control your temper about as well as Malfoy controlled Buckbeak!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Harry's whole demeanor changed. An instant before, he'd been furious, but thoughts of Buckbeak were thoughts of Sirius, and he slumped back to the ground in despair. "How am I ever going to do this?" he wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer.

"You're going to stand up and face me like the man you will shortly be, and force me out of your mind," Snape answered quietly. "I suggest you do it quickly, as this time I will not count."

Alarmed, Harry scrambled to his feet and turned to face his sneering Professor, whose wand was already raised. "Legilimens."

Harry heard the spell and felt dizzy for a moment. Disconnected images flitted through his mind: Ron sitting in the common room, staring blankly at Hermione; Ron dropping the Quaffle in his first game against Slytherin; Ron's young face full of fear as he sacrificed himself in a chess game so that Harry could go after Quirrel. Through all of this Harry struggled half-heartedly. But when the Department of Mysteries came into view, and he heard Ron's voice utter the summoning spell that would entangle him with the brain, something in him gave way.

"No," he whispered, and the walls came up. When he opened his eyes, he found himself on his knees yet again, though he couldn't remember falling. Professor Snape, however, was on his rear end, several feet away, and looking shocked. It was only then that Harry realized he'd not bothered to draw his wand. Perhaps all those books on theory and technique had been of some use. Certainly his long discussion with Professor Snape two days past had given him an idea how to draw the walls closed tightly enough to push him out. If only he'd told him all that before, maybe Harry would never have been tempted to go to the Department of Mysteries.

At this thought, a flash of resentment welled up in him so swiftly that any joy over his accomplishment was overwhelmed. "Why the hell didn't you tell me all this before!" he demanded suddenly, shaking as he stood. "If I could have done that last year, then...then..."

"Then, what, Potter?" Snape asked snidely, picking himself up as well, and matching Harry's fury easily. "Then you would never have lured Black to his death?"

Harry had his wand out a moment later, but Professor Snape looked far from worried. He disarmed the irate boy easily. "Please, Potter, don't insult us both," he sneered, holding Harry's wand loosely in his hand before pocketing it. "Something more difficult is in order, I think," he said then, gazing at Harry's murderous face. Last year, he would not have warned him what he'd be looking for, but Miss Granger's succinct letter was still playing in the back of his mind to remind him that more was at stake than just a prophesy. "What do you want to show me about the late Mr. Diggory?" he asked quietly, his voice a deadly velvet.

Harry hissed in a breath, but stood his ground, no longer shaking. It occurred to him briefly that Professor Snape had changed his mind somewhere between his comment about Sirius and his warning that he was looking for information about Cedric. He had no time to wonder why, however, because the curse was already hurtling toward him.

"Nothing," he gritted in answer. But the images came. This time, inhibited by his anger, he couldn't stop them. He felt himself fall to his knees, which he assumed meant that he wasn't paying enough attention to his mind. He tried to focus, but the guilt that had been reasserted by Snape's caustic words was foremost in his mind. Tears were streaming down his face by the time Snape ended the spell, looking disgusted.

"Enough. Go back to the castle. Return when you can control yourself."

"I was controlling myself fine until you - "

"Until I what? You lost your temper after your first success, Potter, not after anything I said."

At this startling revelation, Harry looked away, saying nothing. Hedwig found them on the grounds at just this moment, Severus gazing out over the lake, supremely frustrated, and Harry staring at the grass. She landed elegantly on his shoulder, making him wince as her sharp talons dug in. "Hello, girl," he said quietly, not wanting to attract Snape's attention again so soon. He took the letter and unrolled it part way before Hedwig pecked at him a bit. "The dorm window is open. You know where your treats are," he said crossly.

The bird ruffled her feathers indignantly and took off. Severus, standing only a few feet away, shook his head. If Potter couldn't even be nice to his innocent bird there was no hope of them ever getting along. He strained for any further noise as Harry read.

_Dear Harry,_

_You were right about Ron. I don't know how I missed it, but I'm glad you warned me or I'd never have survived this last week. I think he tried to kiss me! I have no idea what he's thinking, really. You two are like brothers to me, and I love you both, but the idea of kissing either of you is frankly repugnant. Besides, it isn't as though he and I have anything in common. We fight all the time, though I'm starting to see that's more because he's frustrated that I don't want to go out with him than for any other reason. He picks fights with me when he expects affection and doesn't get it, doesn't he? You're the observant one. Does it seem that way to you?_

_I don't really know what to do about it, now that I've discovered it. If I just ignore it, he and I will only fight more often, and I don't want us not to be friends anymore. I wrote to Viktor to see what he'd say, but his only idea was that I go out with someone else. Naturally he was referring to himself, and Ron would completely flip out if I told him I was actually seeing Viktor. Besides, I'm not cut out to be a Quidditch groupie. I need someone who likes the same things I do._

_Do you have any idea what I should tell him? I'm willing to try about anything. Grimmauld Place isn't the same without you, but it's downright frightening when I've got to be hiding from Ron all the time. I got stuck in a closet last Tuesday and had to wait nearly half an hour before I heard Fred and George come down the hallway and knew it was safe to call for help! Imagine thinking of the twins as the SAFEST option! I can't tell you how I wish you were here. I'm sure he'd be much more wary of trying anything with you around, not that I think he'd do anything if I asked him not to, of course. It's just that I don't want to have to tell him no! Honestly, I am looking forward to school even more than usual this year. Only another month to go. (Urg, that sounds awful - a whole month! Can't you write to him or something?)_

_Hermione_

Harry looked up from the parchment to find that Professor Snape had disappeared, and decided that was for the best. He laughed a little to himself as he put the paper in a pocket of his new robes and set off back toward the castle. There wasn't much to be done for Hermione, he knew. Like it or not she would have to deal with this one on her own, but he knew she'd figure it out. She managed everything else just fine. She could manage Ron.

* * *

Hermione was not nearly as sure of her abilities in this area as Harry was. In fact, as she sat with Ginny in their room that afternoon, she was beginning to wonder if she wasn't entirely inept at dealing with men. "What am I going to do, Gin?" she asked helplessly, staring at her hands.

Ginny, who thought the whole situation was hilarious, was very little help. "Why don't you let him kiss you just once, then claim you didn't like it and be done with it? He'll be so embarrassed that he'll never try again."

"He'll be so embarrassed that he'll never speak to me again, you mean," Hermione said crossly, biting her lip. "That's no good - he's my best friend! Well, him and Harry."

For once, Ginny seemed serious. "Well, you could just explain to him that you think of him as family and can't go out with him. That'd be the kindest way to go about it."

Hermione shot her a scathing look to indicate how blatantly obvious that was before replying, "Yes, that's also the most difficult way to go about it. And he'll still be embarrassed. What I need is for him to get the idea without realizing that I ever knew he wanted to go out with me, so that everything can be just the way it was before!"

Ginny was shaking her head, but it was obvious that she understood, even if she had no idea how to go about it. "You need to think like a Slytherin," she said, only half joking. A few moments later, she was gone out the door and downstairs to help her mother with dinner.

It took nearly three hours and several pieces of parchment before Hermione had a workable plan. And it was a good plan, relying on what she knew of the entire Weasley family. She would start with Fred and George, and she would start first thing in the morning. It wouldn't be difficult. She had only to wait until Ginny was ensconced in the bathroom on this floor, then barge into the bathroom upstairs.

* * *

"Oi, there, Hermione!" Fred said in alarm, as the door flew open. Everything had happened perfectly. Ginny had taken over the bathroom as usual, and rather than waiting patiently as she had every other morning that summer, Hermione stomped upstairs in a huff, throwing open the bathroom door without bothering to listen if the shower was still running. It wasn't.

Fred was toweling off in front of the mirror, and she had a moment's wild thought of laughter as she realized he'd been posing before it as well. "Ginny's taken over the bathroom AGAIN. Hurry up, so I can have a go," she said airily. She'd had to steel herself not to blush when he saw him, and was surprised when he DID blush, all the way down to his quickly covered –

"What are you -"

"Oh please!" She exclaimed in exasperation. "We're all family, after all, it isn't as if I was i looking /i .

This one phrase had, of course, been the point of the expedition. She tossed her clothes down casually beside the toilet. "If you still need the sink, can I just jump in the shower first? I don't mind if you use it while I'm in there." This was not precisely true; however, in order to make it obvious that she did not see him as a potential boyfriend, that level of trust would be necessary. Besides, if his red ears were any indication, he would NOT be coming back into the room.

"Er- no, I'm done. You go ahead," he said quickly, clutching his towel around his waist convulsively and barreling past her out the door. Ron would be sure to hear about it within minutes, and with any luck, it would occur to him that if she thought of Fred as a brother, she must think of him that way as well.

"Perfect," she whispered, as the door slammed behind him. And she got an early shower for her trouble, too.

* * *

Harry's second letter from Hermione since his removal to Hogwarts followed fast on the heels of the first, and it arrived at breakfast. He couldn't help but laugh aloud at the plan she'd come up with. It truly was brilliant, if a very Slytherin way to go about it. He guessed Ginny was equally as impressed, as she'd agreed to help.

Severus couldn't help but wonder what the indomitable Miss Granger had written to make Harry laugh aloud in the middle of breakfast and then look sheepishly around as he hid the paper in his robes. Professor McGonagall looked interested as well, but she said nothing, merely allowing her gaze to sit on Harry a bit longer than usual. "From Hermione," he explained unnecessarily. Several of the Professors nodded.

On the way out to the lake, Severus decided that he would simply find out what Miss Granger had written. After all, it was now his i job /i to break into Potter's mind. They'd tried several different segments of information in the last week, and though Potter showed signs of resistance, he had never yet managed to send Severus backwards as he had the first day. However, he had had several nightmares and was able to put an end to them before he awoke screaming. Severus took this as progress, particularly considering that it appeared Potter was being honest with him about what he was and was not learning, for once.

"Today I will be looking for information about Miss Granger," he said as they seated themselves on the grass once again. They had not faced one another standing for two days now, and it was a relief. Both had been careful to keep their tempers in check, and Severus in particular had foregone his desire to mention Black. That weakness would have to be dealt with eventually, however, as the Dark Lord would certainly take advantage of it. He put the thought out of his mind as Harry scowled at him. It was no worse than the usual scowl, however, so he just ignored it.

"Why?"

"Because of your letter, Potter. I want to know what was so funny," he answered in a rare moment of honesty. Harry looked disconcerted, but nodded nevertheless. "Legilimens."

It was easier, somehow, seated on the ground. Harry concentrated hard. He saw Hermione as a cat, but didn't want it to get further than that. She could be in a lot of trouble if Professor Snape saw much more. As on the first day, the walls he was learning to erect snapped closed, and Severus was pushed backwards and out of Harry's mind.

"You would pick today to succeed," he grumbled as he sat up again, rubbing the back of his head where it had landed on a twig. For a moment, Harry stared at him, hardly believing how good-natured that had sounded. They sat in silence. Then Severus returned his gaze. "Again," he said shortly, raising his wand.

There was nothing. Harry had not bothered to relax, and so his mind was still closed. But Severus, being rather experienced with Legilimency, did not simply end the spell. He looked for the chink. There was always a way in, he knew, and eventually he found it. Whether the continual need to protect himself had worn Harry down or it had always been there, he wasn't sure, but nearly ten minutes after he'd cast the spell, he forced his way into Harry's mind in the only way he could.

Harry grasped his head as the image of Sirius falling through the veil appeared before his eyes in slow motion. Moments later, Professor Snape was shaking him awake roughly. His tearstained face and grass stained robes were a tribute to just how much that had affected him.

"You miserable bastard," were the first words out of Harry's mouth as he sat up with help. He was surprised to find that the Professor didn't respond, but could see out of the corner of his eye that the man was suddenly furious. A glass of water had appeared in his hand, and Harry drank it greedily.

"Are you under the impression that I am the only one who would stoop to such tactics, Potter?" Severus asked, gritting his teeth against an overwhelming desire to demand respect from the insolent brat. He'd restrained himself thus far, and not required the customary "Sir" in Harry's mode of addressing him, but allowing the boy to insult him to his face was more than he could tolerate.

To his surprise, Harry was staring at him again as if he'd only just understood this vital piece of information. He was even more surprised at his docile answer. "No, Sir."

Severus looked up sharply. "What made you say that?" he demanded, suddenly angrier than he'd been previously at the lack of any honorary. Had Harry managed to see something of his thoughts during that last attempt?

"I just - I mean, well, you're RIGHT, aren't you!" Harry asked defensively, stumbling over his words as he tried to understand why his agreement would upset the Professor further. He sat still for several long moments.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. I'm right," Severus said wearily, turning his eyes out over the lake. It was obvious they would get no further today, so he stood swiftly. "Tomorrow morning," he said ominously before striding across the grounds and back to the castle alone.

That night, Harry decided it would be best to write Ron and Hermione and tell them where he was. He'd been putting it off for just over a week, and didn't want them to think he was keeping secrets. It had always infuriated him not to know what was going on, and he wasn't going to let someone else go ignorant if he could help it, not even about something so seemingly unimportant. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he hadn't yet mentioned to Professor Snape that the few dreams he was still having seemed to feature the Potions Master, himself.

"That's different," he told himself firmly. "Dumbledore asked me not to tell." But he couldn't help but feel he was doing the Professor a disservice. And after he'd come so far in Occlumency this last week, he was feeling pretty generous. He resolved to tell him the very next day.


	4. Duplicity Half Revealed

**Chapter 3 – Duplicity Half Revealed**

Hermione fell silent when Ron entered the room, but Ginny was still giggling. Hermione prodded her and glared. Two days had passed since her encounter with Fred in the upstairs bathroom, and Ron had been trying to get her alone to ask her about it ever since. Ginny had been invaluable.

"Mom says it's time for lunch," he stated sullenly. He was sure they'd been laughing about him for a moment before he brightened up, deciding that they were probably laughing about Fred instead. Poor Fred, he'd been mortified when he related the story to George, Ron and Bill later that day. Ron had really felt bad for him as he stood there blushing just over the retelling. George had laughed hysterically. It was Bill, though, who'd put the whole thing in perspective.

"Maybe she just really thinks of us as family," he'd said thoughtfully, "if she doesn't see you as boyfriend material, then chances are she really WASN'T looking, and there's no reason for you to be embarrassed." Ron had been pondering that comment for the last two days. Was it possible that Hermione thought of herself as his adopted sister? It would explain why she hadn't realized he was trying to kiss her last week. He shook his head as he led the way to lunch. Surely not. He felt so strangely nervous around her, and he was always hoping she'd kiss him on the cheek again like she had before his first Quidditch match last year. She just HAD to feel the same.

He seated himself heavily at the table, weighed down by his thoughts, and Hermione sat next to him. Not as close as she might have a year ago, he noticed. Ginny plopped down on his other side. Hermione shot her a sly grin as Ron began to help himself to everything in arm's reach. They waited until he did it, knowing the time would come. Eventually he took a large bite of something, chewed for a minute, and then joined in Bill and George's conversation about Quidditch. The girls had decided beforehand what they were going to say.

"OH, Ron, ick! Swallow first, would you?" they said in tandem. Half the table looked up, and Ron turned red. The girls laughed and exchanged a look.

"Looks like you've got two little sisters on your case now, mate," Fred said knowingly, having first been careful to swallow his food. Hermione beamed. It was all working out perfectly.

"Really, Ron!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, making him glow an even brighter red.

When everyone had turned back to their own conversations, Hermione and Ginny both leaned toward him and whispered, "Sorry," in his ear. He looked between them in shock, but they'd gone back to eating as if they didn't know that they were behaving exactly the same. Ron finished his lunch carefully, not bothering to talk at all.

For three days, all was quiet, and Hermione was overjoyed - it seemed that Ron had gotten the message. She sat down to re-read Harry's letter and decide how to respond.

_Hermione,_

_Your plan sounds brilliant. Let me know how it goes. I don't want to be picking up the pieces next term._

_Speaking of Hogwarts, I am already here, taking Remedial Potions again with Professor Snape. He showed up early last week and brought me back. I've now had one solid week of extra lessons, and things are going better than I expected. He seems more inclined to explain things to me now that I've told him I read those books earlier this summer. I haven't mentioned yet about the problems I was having, I'm not sure how to go about it without setting him off. He still flies off the handle often enough, but only when I do, I guess. I've got my afternoons free, and while I fly, I try to think about that instead of other things. It makes the lessons go better. He says I've got to face it though - that it's what makes me fail. I was really angry at first, but I think he's probably right. When he's not going out of his way to cause pain, Professor Snape is actually pretty tolerable. Or maybe I'm just getting used to it, spending four hours a day with him mucking about in there._

_I did write to Ron to let him know I'm not at the Dursley's anymore, but I didn't say anything about you. If he finds out that you told me about all this he'll be furious, and I'd rather have him speaking to me next term than not!_

_If you have any ideas how I can tell Professor Snape, write me back right away. I think he should know, but I don't want him to get so angry that he stops teaching me._

_Harry_

Hermione sat with her quill in her mouth for a long moment, staring at the parchment before she abruptly burned it with her wand and set about writing a response. It was lucky she had, because Ron knocked on the door to her room only a few sentences into her letter.

"Who are you writing to?"

"Harry. He's back at Hogwarts, did he tell you?"

"Yeah," Ron responded, looking uncomfortable. "I guess the letter to Snape worked, then."

"_Professor_ Snape, Ron, and yes, it looks that way. Harry doesn't seem angry, either, so I'm guessing he hasn't told him about the letter, which means -"

"Which means he knows Harry didn't write it," Ron finished, his eyes widening in sudden understanding. "We are so dead." He fell gracelessly onto Ginny's bed, which was beside the writing desk.

"Not necessarily. He obviously saw the truth in what we wrote, or he wouldn't have agreed to teach Harry Occlumency again. He might not be angry at all."

"Since when is Snape ever not angry? Harry says he's used Sirius' death twice to break into his mind when he couldn't get in any other way. It sure sounds to me like he's still angry."

"Harry said that?"

"Well, not in so many words, but, that was the idea." Ron put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

Hermione was silent. Harry hadn't told her that part. Maybe he just didn't want to upset her by being disrespectful of a Professor. She went back to her letter, and Ron sat silently until she'd completed it, a first for him. As she put it in an envelope, his head turned toward her. "Hermione?"

She didn't look up, afraid suddenly that her ploy hadn't worked. What if he asked her out or something! "Do you think Occlumency will be enough this time? I mean, if he's got a direct link to - to Voldemort," he said, forcing the name out fast and continuing, "is it even possible that Occlumency will stop him being possessed again, like in the Ministry of Magic?"

"I don't know, Ron, but it's the best we've got," Hermione said firmly, letting out a slow breath. She turned to face him, letter in hand. "Can I borrow Pig? I haven't seen Hedwig lately." As they trotted down the hall to get the tiny owl, Hermione's relief was almost palpable. But still, Ron was not acting with her quite the way he would with Ginny or Harry. Perhaps a little more work was in order.

* * *

Another day passed, and Harry had already had two Occlumency lessons in his second week with Snape when Hermione's letter arrived, carried by the overzealous Pig. The owl arrived at the most inopportune time. Harry had managed to put up shields around his mind before Severus could get in for the first time, but the twittering distracted him. Severus saw Harry's overwhelming desire to throttle the little bird before he could end the spell, and as a result, he plucked Pig out of the air before Harry could get to him.

"I'm not going to hurt him," Harry said defensively, knowing what his Professor must be thinking. He got a raised eyebrow for his trouble, but Pig was released.

"You will have to learn to work around distractions, Mr. Potter," Severus said quietly. Nevertheless, he sent Pig away with a harsh word as soon as the letter was delivered. Harry put the letter in his pocket and looked up at him expectantly. He'd learned his lesson. The last time he'd read a letter in front of Professor Snape, he'd then had to defend the information against mental attack!

Disappointment flickered across Severus' face, but it was gone again in a heartbeat. Even if Harry wasn't aware of it, however, Severus was, and he paused for a moment to wonder at it. Since when did he care what Miss. Granger and Mr. Potter discussed in their letters? 'Since she maneuvered you so adeptly, perhaps? Since you noticed her Slytherin tendencies,' a traitorous voice began in the back of his head, and he squashed it violently. Miss. Granger was the consummate Gryffindor. That's why he despised her. 'So is Albus, but you know full well that he's cunning, and excellent at getting what he wants. Obviously Miss. Granger is as well.'

"Mr. Potter, I seem to recall from last year's foray into this branch of magic that the Sorting Hat considered putting you into Slytherin, is that so?" he asked, trying to get his mind back on the topic at hand.

Harry was startled by this sudden shift in topic. "Yes, Sir," he said, suddenly uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about last year's fiasco.

"You are not nearly crafty enough to be of any use to the Slytherins, Potter, you need not worry," Severus said wryly. Harry grinned in spite of himself. It seemed strange, but the last few days, he'd almost begun to appreciate his Professor's humor. A year ago he might have taken offense at that statement, since Professor Snape obviously thought Slytherins were superior to the rest of the school. Or did he? Harry looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Is that how they make friends in your house, Professor? By who is useful to them?" The words were out of his mouth before he realized how insulting they would sound. He suppressed a wince as Professor Snape scowled suddenly.

But to the surprise of them both, he answered anyway. "Often that is the case, Potter. Slytherin politics are - complex. It is difficult to make real friends in Slytherin House." The words came grudgingly, and at first Severus didn't want to elaborate. Then Draco flashed through his mind, and he continued with a new purpose. "Small wonder that Mr. Malfoy was so anxious to be your friend first year. You were probably the only pureblood boy his father would have approved of him befriending regardless of your house. And he'd already met most of the Slytherins at various parties in his youth."

Harry looked down. "If he hadn't made hating Ron a condition of shaking his hand, I wouldn't have turned him down," he replied quietly. At this admission, Severus started a bit. He hadn't been expecting to get anything resembling understanding from the boy. Harry looked back up at him. "Ron and Hagrid were the first friends I'd ever had, Professor. I wanted to make friends with everyone I could, but Malfoy made it obvious that he despised both of them. I couldn't very well drop them for him."

Severus nodded in spite of himself, and a few moments of silence passed as they both digested the idea that they'd just had a decent conversation for the first time in their acquaintance. "Lunch, Potter," Snape said suddenly, reverting to form with a vengeance. "Then back here for the afternoon."

Harry knew better than to argue with that voice, and so he simply replied, "Yes, Sir," and set off behind his Professor for the castle. Severus, becoming used to Harry's newfound respect, didn't bat an eyelash at the honorary this time as he led the way.


	5. Finally an Even Keel

**Chapter 4 – Finally An Even Keel**

They were late to lunch, and the only remaining chairs were side by side. Dumbledore, Harry noticed immediately, was as far from him as possible. It was the Headmaster's first day back in the castle since Harry had arrived, and he hadn't bothered to even speak to him. He indulged in a moment of annoyance over this, but no longer. Professor Snape had yet to use Harry's feelings for Dumbledore to force entry to his thoughts. So far he'd tried Ron and Hermione with little luck, and Cedric, which still got him through once in a while. And Sirius, of course, which got him through every time.

The morning had been spent on Cedric, and it had been exhausting. What was tiring about it, Harry found, was not being hexed. It was afterwards, when Snape bombarded him with questions to which he often didn't have the answers: "How did I get through, Potter?; What was that last image, in the hallway?; A bath, Potter?" The conversation had seemed endless and Harry was more than pleased by the imperative of lunch. He was not particularly looking forward to giving up his afternoon, but it didn't appear that he had any choice in the matter. He ate quickly, and then pulled out Hermione's letter, holding it in his lap to read, and conveniently forgetting that Professor Snape was beside him.

_Dear Harry,_

_The plan is going well. Ginny has been a great help, and so have the twins, though they don't realize it. More on that later._

_I'm glad to hear that your lessons are going better this time. I am surprised that you are already at Hogwarts. I guess I just thought you would be getting ready to come here by now. Maybe that is just wishful thinking on my part._

_As to Professor Snape, you should tell him right away. It could be that –_

At this point the parchment dissolved into sand in Harry's hands and sifted through his fingers to pool in his lap. His head snapped up immediately to see an uncharacteristically guilty look on Professor Snape's face. He'd been reading the letter as well! Harry flushed red quite suddenly, not sure whether to be angry or embarrassed. Anger won out a moment later and he pushed his chair back loudly.

However, he had no desire to make a scene, and as he brushed the sand from his robes, he spoke carefully through gritted teeth, "Hermione's security measure for your protection, Professor." He glared at the man for a moment. "I'll be out at the lake." As he stormed out of the Great Hall, doing his best not to stomp, he summoned his Firebolt. It met him in the entryway and he flew back to the lake as fast as he could go.

Severus followed him on foot, sweeping out of the Hall quickly so as to avoid the disappointment he was sure to find in the Headmaster's eyes. He had a three minute walk during which to decide what to say to Harry Potter, but he spent a good minute of it marveling over the idea of Miss Granger using the Weasley twins to her advantage. No one else had ever managed it. He expended some energy in NOT contemplating her concern for his own safety.

Naturally it was obvious that he should apologize to Harry, but how to go about it without sounding very guilty was the question. He reached the lake before he found the answer. He did manage to convince himself, however, that raging over the information Potter was withholding would not be the best way to handle it all. Harry was performing loops out over the lake, to the amusement of the squid, which reached for him playfully, sometimes missing by only inches.

Severus sat down to watch, not at all enamored of the idea of calling Harry back for the sake of the impending conversation. If he watched objectively enough, which wasn't hard since he couldn't see Harry's face, he could easily discern that Harry was a better flyer than even James had been. And he'd watched five years worth of James Potter as the Gryffindor Seeker, so he should know. For a startled moment he contemplated telling that to Harry, then dismissed the idea. He was the last person with whom Harry would want to discuss James. Though eventually they would have to.

He had an inkling that their time talking about Cedric's death today might have fortified the boy enough to allow him some measure of control in the face of the memory of the Dark Lord's return, and had intended to spend the afternoon testing that theory. Now, however, he was beginning to see that there were other things that bothered Harry more. Case in point: himself. And he was not ready to sit on the grass in the August sunshine and ask Potter why he hated him and what he needed to be able to get past it. That was definitely the LAST topic they were going to tackle. And yet there was the matter of Potter's dreams to consider. He was lost in thought when Harry landed, and so was startled when the boy spoke.

"It wasn't exactly a Pensieve, but it was mine. I consider us even," Harry said, his voice under careful control. He'd obviously done a great deal of thinking on the matter as he flew.

"As you say, Mr. Potter," Severus responded, just as carefully. He was relieved, honestly. It saved him having to say he was_sorry_.

Harry sat down heavily on the grass nearby, his broom falling to his side. He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture that was so reminiscent of James that Severus choked back whatever he'd been about to say concerning the afternoon's activities. This gave Harry the opening to voice a thought that had just occurred to him. "Speaking of that pensieve, why aren't you using it now?" He figured if Professor Snape hadn't bit his head off over mentioning the incident in the first place, he could at least get some answers. He watched as the Professor weighed his answer carefully.

"It occurred to me that you are risking the entirety of your mind to my perusal, and it was only fitting that I should do the same." He debated whether or not to continue, but then forged ahead. "Also, Lupin informed me that the little scene you viewed had no small affect on you, and yet you mentioned it to no one but those who were there. In that respect, you have -" he paused again, "-earned my trust," he finished grudgingly. However unfitting it was, he found as he said it that it was true. Harry Potter had kept his secret. A secret his father had delighted in retelling to the entire school for weeks after the actual occurrence. He could no longer say that the boy was just like his father, appearance and Quidditch talent aside.

"I know what it's like to be picked on," Harry said quietly. "Dudley and his friends made a right sport out of it before I discovered I was a wizard. I wouldn't want everyone to know about that, either." Harry wanted badly to ask about any other memories Professor Snape might have of his parents, but stifled the urge. This conversation seemed to be going pretty well so far, and he didn't want to ruin it.

Finally, when it became apparent that the Professor wasn't going to say anything else, Harry spoke again. "I dreamt this summer, in spite of all the reading I did. I can stop the dreams as soon as they start now, but at first I couldn't. They were all about you." Here he looked over at him and added, with a touch of humor, "I could recognize your nose behind the mask."

Snape snorted in unexpected amusement and Harry continued. "Always it was the end of a meeting, and the majority of the Death Eaters were sent away. Then Malfoy would take off his mask. I kept waking myself up before you took yours off, though, and I forced a feeling of confusion to make him think I didn't understand why he'd show me that scene, so he wouldn't know I'd recognized you."

Severus was impressed in spite of himself. To do even that much on just book learning was to do quite a lot. "Well done, Potter," he said softly. "You say you can stop the dreams now?" Harry nodded. There was silence while Severus thought this over. It would be easy to go to the Headmaster and tell him that Harry's abilities were sufficient to stop the dreams, and he was through teaching him. But the next time Harry met the Dark Lord face to face he would still be nearly defenseless. And there would almost certainly be a next time, what with the prophesy and all.

Finally he bestirred himself. "I believe you have moved past your difficulties with memories of Mr. Diggory," he said, still staring out over the lake. "It has long been my opinion that your weaknesses in Occlumency stem from a feeling of guilt. This is something the Dark Lord can use against you no matter what the circumstance." There was another long silence as Severus tried to determine what would best get this across. He was unused to relating to anyone who was not in his house, but recalled that his own experiences had swayed some of them to postpone taking the mark last year. "I am familiar with guilt," he added, glancing quickly at Harry and then away. "I have discovered that knowing something is your fault and working to keep it from happening again are the only ways to assuage it, and even that does not entirely eliminate the feeling."

He was treading lightly, not wanting to imply that Sirius' death was Harry's fault. He could recall plainly the kind of reaction he'd gotten for such statements in the past and now was not the time to goad the boy. Their progress had been too substantial to risk a setback of that size now. "The key is to choose what you will think of and discipline your mind to ignore the rest. When I - am called, I think only of what I dislike about the Headmaster, of what I dislike about you. I concentrate on those things to the point of obsession, and because I can think of nothing but those things, the Dark Lord is unable to see beyond them."

Harry was listening raptly. He had not really thought about Professor Snape's work with the Order, beyond trying to hide his knowledge of it from Voldemort. He saw with blinding clarity that his gift for Occlumency was the only thing allowing the man to survive. And the fact that he was still alive was precisely why the Headmaster wanted him to be the one to teach it. A newfound respect welled in him, and he resolved in that moment not to forget what Professor Snape was risking just because the man was unpleasant.

They talked about the Order with a frankness that no one else had ever shown, except for Sirius. They talked of guilt in a roundabout way, never once addressing what one or the other of them might have to feel guilty about. Looking back, Harry decided it was the kind of conversation he could have had with Hermione if Ron weren't there to point out the obvious for them all the time. He felt better about Sirius than he had ever expected to feel again.

But when they finally began again, Harry called a halt after only an hour. Two weeks ago he would never have said anything about the pain in his scar, certainly he would not have mentioned it to Professor Snape. But much had changed in the last two weeks. This was the first time since his return to Hogwarts that he'd felt so much as a twitch in his forehead, for one thing, and his inability to block it was disconcerting. Also, Snape had lost his temper less often in the last week, and Harry was beginning to feel as though he'd finally crushed all the eggshells and could just walk normally. So he did.

"Wait, Professor," he said, as the dark man before him raised his wand again. Snape scowled, but lowered his arm. Harry put a hand to his forehead. "He's doing this on purpose," Harry whispered. The next thing his eyes registered was the ceiling in the hospital wing. How he had gotten there, he had no idea, but he sat up abruptly. His scar still pulsed faintly, and he had a disconnected feeling of deep distrust, which had nothing to do with his feelings for the nurse hurrying towards him.

"Where's Professor Snape?" Harry asked immediately.

Madam Pomfrey clucked in disapproval. "Not now, Potter. Lie back. I'll need to have a look at your head." She looked, but found nothing, as Harry had expected. He knew better than to mention that his scar still hurt, so instead he forced his voice to be bright.

"Can I go down for dinner?" he asked hopefully. He would be far more likely to get information from one of the other Professors than from Madam Pomfrey, and perhaps Professor Snape would already be there. The clock across the room was pointing solidly at "Dinner Time." The stalwart nurse agreed reluctantly, as she was unable to find a reason for him to stay, and he made his get-away quickly.

But Snape was not at the table. The Headmaster looked up as Harry entered, and their eyes met. Harry felt that odd, serpentine feeling growing in him, and at the same time his scar began to sting. He stopped cold in the doorway, pushing all thought out of his head, concentrating on the normalcy of going to dinner, eating with his Professors, looking at the empty Great Hall. He brought to mind the flying time he hoped to have later in the day. He thought hard about a letter to Ron that he meant to write before he went to bed. Gradually the pain and odd feeling subsided, and he realized that he was still staring fixedly at Professor Dumbledore, who looked visibly relieved.

"Sorry," Harry said, making his way quickly to an empty chair. He did his best to look as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but every head turned to stare at him. He doggedly piled mashed potatoes on his plate. Eventually the others went back to eating, but the silence that had descended upon his arrival remained.

When he'd finished eating, he looked up at the Headmaster again, glad that no odd feelings seemed to stir. "Professor Dumbledore, may I speak with you and Professor McGonagall after dinner?" he asked carefully. It had occurred to him that being alone with Dumbledore would not be safe for either of them. It had been so hard to force Voldemort back out of his head this time, and he knew it had been a very near thing.

The Headmaster threw a look at Professor McGonagall and must have gotten some response, for he nodded. "Of course, Harry."

It was a short discussion, during which Harry explained what he'd felt and how he'd stopped it, bringing approving nods from both Professors. He then asked specifically whether Professor Snape was still in the castle, and got a negative response.

"He's been called, then?" he asked.

"Yes. It is becoming obvious that Voldemort is suspicious of Professor Snape's loyalty. He has undoubtedly heard that you are here and was looking for any thoughts or emotions in you that might give him an indication about where Severus' true loyalties lie. You did well to force him out. I'm sure Professor Snape will be very pleased." Dumbledore spoke softly, and there was no twinkle in his eyes. He was watching Harry closely for any sign of the struggle he'd seen before.

"But you must be extraordinarily careful tonight when you sleep, Potter," McGonagall added sternly. "Perhaps it would be best if you remained awake until after Professor Snape returns."

"No," Dumbledore responded immediately, turning to her as if Harry was no longer present. "There should be no reason for Voldemort to believe that Harry has any knowledge of Severus' whereabouts."

"I think I'll just head out to the pitch, then," Harry said suddenly. "One of the things I was trying to concentrate on was that I wanted to go flying."

They consented to this readily enough, and he was gone out of the Headmaster's office as quickly as he could be. They both had a point. What would be more dangerous? Staying awake and risking Voldemort discovering why, or falling asleep and risking another dream, one that might give Professor Snape away for good and all?

By the time the sun was fully set, Harry had made up his mind to sleep. Whether he could block the dreams entirely, he didn't know, but if today's victory was any indication, he could at least control his mind to the point of forcing Voldemort out.

Snape was at the breakfast table the next morning, looking nothing short of exhausted. Harry made a point to sit beside him. "All right, Professor?" he asked, straddling the fence between the respect he'd come to have for the man and a camaraderie that he usually showed only to his housemates.

If Severus was at all startled by the familiarity, he didn't show it. "Alright, Potter," he confirmed quietly, his eyes never leaving his plate.

_

* * *

__Dear Harry,_

_I'm sorry you didn't get to read about the Bathroom Plan, but really, you know Professor Snape loves to read notes. Every time he catches someone with one in class he makes sure to read it, after all. And usually out loud! The long and short of it was that I walked in on Fred after he finished showering and shooed him out of the bathroom. When he got embarrassed, I just told him we were all family and I wasn't looking. And he told Ron, who was SUPPOSED to realize that meant he was more like a brother to me than – anything else. He was a little dense, though, so Ginny and I started saying the same things to him, wording and all. Those two things kept him normal for over two weeks, but then he started looking at me sideways again at the dinner table, so I thought I'd better try the only remaining thing I could think of…._

Hermione waited patiently for the perfect opportunity over the next several days, but when it presented itself, she nearly missed it. Mrs. Weasley announced the next day's trip to Diagon Alley at dinner. Hermione almost missed her cue as her friends began discussing what supplies they'd need, but raised her voice after hearing Ron's indiscreet comment to George: "Maybe Hermione and I will check out that new bookstore the Prophet was talking about last week."

It was obvious that she'd been meant to hear, and equally obvious that he was proposing a "date." For a moment she thought it very sweet of him to choose something she'd actually enjoy instead of dragging her off to the Quidditch supply store as usual.

She firmly squashed that thought as the wheels in her head started turning. "Yes, I definitely want to go there," she answered slowly, ignoring Ginny, who kicked her under the table. "But…" She turned to Mrs. Weasley, "there's something I have to do first, and I could use some help," she said, lowering her voice just a bit. Any blush that threatened was forcefully controlled as Mrs. Weasley met her gaze.

"What's that, dear?" the older woman asked kindly, not noticing that the noise level had dropped substantially as everyone listened.

"Well, I've sort of filled out a bit," Hermione answered, shifting her bra from the sides for emphasis and feigning complete comfort with the topic, if not the garment. "I'm afraid these are a bit tight."

She knew she could count on Mrs. Weasley to be business-like and efficient on this, and she wasn't disappointed. "Right. The others can go straight to Flourish and Blotts. You, Ron and I will head to Madam Malkin's and when we're finished there, the two of you can go to the bookshop you want to see."

"Thanks," Hermione said, masking her alarm. When she turned back to the others Fred, George and Ginny were all grinning, but Ron looked horrified. "Oh, grow up, Ron," she snapped. "Ginny's got them too, you know!"

Any thoughts Ron may once have had about dating Hermione were irrevocably obliterated by the end of the summer. Harry sat out by the lake only two days before the beginning of term, laughing over Ginny's description of the disastrous trip to Diagon Alley, which of course all the Weasley children had spied on. He'd already received Hermione's letter on the same topic and had to admit it was the perfect finish to a brilliant plan.

* * *

All in all, and in spite of the many things he had NOT accomplished this summer, Severus was pleased with the boy's progress. And although he never mentioned that fact to Potter, it was a fact nevertheless. He was not aware that it showed in his treatment of the boy, however, until the first day of classes, when the unthinkable happened. Harry Potter stayed after class to talk with Professor Snape.

He was furious, but unwilling to show it. To discourage the boy now would mean the end of half a summer's hard work, and possibly his own life, as Miss Granger had been kind enough to point out to him. As Potter approached his desk, Severus checked discreetly to be sure the rest had cleared the room. Naturally they had – as quickly as ever.

"Professor, now that classes have started, do I have to tell everyone I'm taking remedial potions again?" Harry asked quietly. A year ago, he would have sounded angry at the very thought. A year ago he would have been defensive about the idea of being thought stupid. A year ago he had been a child. Severus looked up warily, and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to answer his own question. It was a rather daft question, after all. "I thought as much," Harry said, a trace of petulance creeping into his tone.

Severus smirked. "Master it and the lie won't be necessary, Mr. Potter," he said smoothly. Harry only nodded. "Your class schedule," Severus demanded, holding out a hand. The boy passed it to him without question. Not even a flicker of annoyance at the presumptuousness of the command. "Something wrong, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked, not glancing up from the schedule. He had just determined that Wednesdays and Saturdays were the only available times for Occlumency lessons when it registered that he had not received an answer. He looked up. Harry was shifting uncomfortably in front of his desk as though he had a splinter in each foot. "Well?"

"Ron and I had a row," he answered quickly.

Severus frowned. "You were sure to write them to tell them you wouldn't make the train?" he asked, nearly wincing at how paternal that sounded. He would have to be more careful. Harry was nodding. The correct thing to say was that it would all work out and Ron would come around. Instead he snapped, "Well, work it out. Occlumency doesn't mix with distractions such as that."

There was the annoyance. Good. It wouldn't do to have him completely docile. Tempting as it was, the point was not to break the boy, only to teach him. "Yes, Sir," Harry replied sullenly. Severus handed him back the class schedule.

"Wednesdays after dinner and Saturday morning from 8 until noon, with the exception of Quidditch. When I have seen sufficient progress, you may accompany your friends to Hogsmeade as well."

"Thank you, Sir," Harry replied, obviously having mastered his annoyance. Severus thought briefly that 16 agreed with the boy a great deal.

"Dismissed."


	6. Adulthood

**Chapter 5 - Adulthood**

"Remind me to thank you again for insisting on a private ceremony for Order members."

Severus Snape spun on the spot to gaze into the playful green eyes of Harry Potter. Harry was grimacing with distaste as his gaze slid back to the stage, where several people had just been presented with Order of Merlin awards for their services during the war. Severus smirked and held out a hand. "Mr. Potter. Imagine finding you among the crowd for once," he said dryly. Harry laughed.

The year of Occlumency lessons had been followed by a year of Legilimency lessons, which had done a great deal towards learning of and foiling Voldemort's machinations. In the process, the two had grudgingly become friends, though neither had admitted that fact in public. Now, however, with Voldemort finally gone, they each had the freedom to befriend whomever they chose. Harry still occasionally felt pangs of guilt over the awful things he'd said and thought about Severus in his school days. Such moments were usually brought on by prolonged reminiscing with Ron Weasley.

Harry and Ron had had a nasty row at the beginning of their sixth year. Harry had defended Severus' questionable teaching methods and Ron had immediately labeled him a traitor to all that Gryffindors hold dear. It was weeks before they spoke again, and even when they did, the topic of Professor Snape was strictly taboo between them. Now that school was finished, however, Ron mentioned "the greasy git," occasionally. Harry did his best to ignore him.

Hermione had been more understanding. She could see that Harry no longer despised their Potions Master, and she continued to defend him, as she always had, when Ron got out of hand.

Harry shook himself out of these thoughts when his eyes focused on Hermione herself, dancing past them in the arms of Terry Boot. Then he turned back to Severus. "I can't see the beautiful women from the stage, so I thought I'd lose myself in the crowd and see what I could see," he said glibly in response to the older man's jibe, and doing a fair impersonation of his father.

It was Severus' turn to laugh. Naturally he recognized Harry's impression, as it was modeled from his own memories of James. Years before, he had buried everything he knew about the man deep in his memory, having had no desire to think of him. However, when it had become obvious that Harry would benefit from his memories, he'd dug out his Penseive to remind himself.

Miss Granger's words, spoken during detention near the beginning of her seventh year, had stuck in his head. "You're the only person left now who knew Harry's parents. What a huge responsibility – to be the only man who can shape his view of them." It was not the sort of thing one generally discussed with a student who was supposed to be scrubbing cauldrons, but then, he was still convinced that she'd earned that detention on purpose just so she could have a chance to say it. After all, what were the chances of the Head Girl receiving a detention (without either of her cohorts in crime) so soon after the news of Lupin's death?

Severus shook his thoughts away, realizing that he'd been staring at the girl while Harry watched him. He turned away quickly. "I see nothing of interest," he stated firmly, all joviality gone from his face.

"Right," Harry said, his eyes flitting over the crowd again. There was a pause, then he added, "I don't know why she's dancing with him. They stopped seeing each other three weeks ago."

"Because he asked, and she is too polite to refuse," Severus replied, looking into the crowd again. It didn't occur to him that Harry hadn't mentioned whom he was referring to, but Harry certainly noticed that Severus hadn't needed to ask. A very un-Potter-like smirk was creeping over his features. In fact, if Ron had seen him at that moment, he would have asked if he'd been taking lessons from Malfoy.

Before Severus looked back, he schooled his features into polite disinterest. "You're right, she probably doesn't want to dance with him." There was a pause, wherein Harry enjoyed the anticipation of a playful embarrassment of his friend. "OI THERE, HERMIONE! COME OVER HERE," he hollered through the crowd.

A long-suffering look was on his one-time Professor's face even as Hermione looked over and grinned at them. She excused herself from Terry, who appeared quite annoyed, and hurried over. "Thanks," she whispered, hugging Harry. "Hello, Professor," she said, nodding at Severus, who nodded in return. But before he could speak, Harry broke in.

"We can get away with calling him Severus now," he said, grinning. In the last two years, he had come to enjoy baiting the older man very much.

"Indeed?" Severus asked, turning to Harry. He looked particularly dangerous for a moment, before a faux defeat came over his features. "It seems you can 'get away' with just about anything, Mr. Potter. I imagine this is no exception."

Hermione and Harry both laughed, which pleased Severus more than he was ever likely to admit. It was ironic in the extreme that he should share the same close friendship with Harry that he had envied between the boy's father and Sirius Black in his own youth. But that didn't stop him from quietly enjoying it.

"Bloody hell!" Harry whispered, the laughter dying in his eyes. Severus and Hermione directed their attention along his line of sight. The Minister of Magic was making his way over. "I seem to have attracted too much attention," he said hurriedly as the portly wizard brushed past a group of laughing witches, obviously intent on intercepting Harry.

It had become a right game in Harry's mind. Attend the parties, see his friends, get out without having a three-hour conversation with Fudge. Sometimes he won and sometimes he lost. Today he intended to win.

"You two'll keep each other company, won't you? I really need to go. If I'm late again…" he sounded apologetic, but really, it worked well into the plan that was already taking shape in his head.

"Go on, Harry. Tell Ginny I said hello," Hermione whispered. An instant later he was gone. Hermione made his apologies to a very miffed Cornelius Fudge, who seemed inclined to question her further about Harry's departure until Severus stepped forward.

"I believe he has a wife to think of, Minister," Severus inserted severely, cutting off yet another question. Fudge had apparently not noticed him before this moment, because he was startled.

"Er – yes, right so. As you say, Mr. Snape. Good day, then," he stuttered, beating a hasty retreat. Severus smirked at his back before turning to Hermione.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "It would have been me stuck here all night instead of Harry. That man's insufferable. Always trying to get his picture taken with Harry to try and remain in office when everyone knows he didn't do a thing to help with the battle! Did you see the photographer? He was – "

"I saw him, Miss Granger," Severus said, cutting her off. Now it would be HE who was stuck here all night instead of Harry. He made a mental note to extract some kind of vengeance for that before resigning himself to the conversation at hand. "He follows the Minister around at every occasion. One can hardly help but notice."

They chatted more or less pleasantly about the ceremony, Hermione adding her thanks to Harry's on the matter of the closed ceremony that Severus had insisted on for Order members. She mentioned his most recently published article, which had been picked up by several well-known Potions magazines, and they spoke of it as well. Severus found that for the first time, he was less than enthusiastic about discussing his theories. He postulated silently that he was half-afraid she'd find something wrong with them. It wouldn't do to consider that he might suddenly be shy, so he did not consider it.

He was rescued from the conversation by none other than Albus Dumbledore, who was solely responsible for Severus' presence in the first place, and therefore long overdue, as far as the Potions Master was concerned. "Hermione!" the Headmaster exclaimed, "I'm glad you could attend. It is the final ceremony, after all," he added, sweeping a hand out to indicate the festivities. Both Severus and Hermione noted at this point that the party was dwindling. Indeed, it appeared that nearly half of those in attendance had already left. Severus was mildly shocked by this. He was normally the second person out the door, right after Harry. Hermione, however, didn't appear surprised at all.

"Yes, thank heavens," she responded, scrunching up her nose a bit in distaste. "Who would have thought it would take an entire year to hand out all the medals?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, then, Severus, if you are prepared to return to the castle, I suppose now is the time. I have been meaning to speak with you tonight about the upcoming term. It seems we are short a professor yet again."

"I'm sorry, Headmaster, I didn't mean to monopolize his time this evening," Hermione said quickly. And in truth, she hadn't. She'd not even realized how much time had passed as they spoke.

"Nonsense, my dear. I can't imagine Severus minded at all. But if you'll excuse us, we really should be getting back. I wouldn't want to give my Potions Master an excuse to skip tomorrow morning's staff meeting." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily, even as the trademark scowl appeared on Severus' face.

Hermione, however, returned the Headmaster's smile. "Right then, Happy Christmas, Professors," she said.

"Happy Christmas, Miss Granger," Severus returned, with a tight nod in her direction. He turned back to Dumbledore to see an odd smirk playing around the man's lips. "Do not even begin to lecture me, old man," he said threateningly, as soon as Hermione was out of earshot.

Dumbledore chuckled again, but kept his thoughts to himself. He had learned years ago that meddling in Severus' business was a risky proposition at best. Particularly when it was clear that Severus himself was not quite sure about his business.


	7. New Years Brings New Friends & Old Enemi

**Chapter 6 – New Years Brings New Friends and Old Enemies**

"Ginny? Do you remember the summer after fifth year, when you and Hermione were trying to make Ron leave her alone?" Harry came through the door talking, and Ginny, looking up from the laundry she was folding, was struck by the difference in him since the time of which he spoke. His face, though not smiling, was the picture of contentment, something she had never dared hope to see when she looked at him. But there was a gleam in his eye that seemed new.

"Yes, why?" she asked guardedly.

Harry hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes, for once, before crossing the room to greet her. She smiled wanly at this. It had only taken 5 months to train him to do that. Her mother owed her ten galleons. Not that she would tell her.

"Was all of that Hermione's idea?"

"Of course. You don't figure _I'd_ come up with something like that! Walking in on Fred in the nude? Yuck! And the bra disaster! It was brilliant." Ginny laughed, remembering Ron's intense embarrassment at being stuck in Madam Malkin's back room while Hermione and his mother kept holding up garments and giggling over them. Ginny and her other brothers had watched the entire spectacle from the window. She'd had to place a silencing charm on George to keep his laughter from giving them away. "Why do you ask?" she inquired shrewdly. She eyed him as he sat down in the chair opposite and put his hands behind his head, another habit he'd picked up from his father as seen in Snape's Pensieve.

"No reason. I was just thinking how very _Slytherin_ it was of her to use Ron's family against him."

Ginny leapt to her friend's defense. "It wasn't like that! She just sort of knew how we'd all react to certain things and – " Her words died in her throat as she looked at her husband. "Okay, yes, it was a sneaky, low-down, Slytherin thing to do. But it wasn't as if she was doing it to hurt him. She only wanted to save their friendship. And it worked," she added, almost petulantly.

Harry grinned. For all her assertions that last year's time turner experience had made them of equal age, Harry could still see an immaturity in her that wasn't present in those who'd begun in his year at school. He was always careful not to mention it, however, since she HAD managed to finish school a year early, something not even Hermione had accomplished. Naturally her NEWT scores had not been as high as Hermione's nor had she taken as many NEWT level classes, but honestly, who had?

"Yes, it worked," he agreed finally.

"What are you up to?" she asked immediately, noticing the odd gleam again in his eye and the uncharacteristic smirk that was taking over his face. The smirk vanished at her words, but the gleam remained.

"Nothing."

The subject was dropped, and with only one quick glance, Ginny went back to the bedroom to put the laundry away. A moment later Harry followed, smirking again.

* * *

"Ron, really, if you were so concerned, why didn't you just come over and talk to us? It isn't as if he'd give you detention for speaking out of turn!" Hermione held the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she rushed through the streets of London, thanking whatever deity presided over cell phones that Ron had finally learned not to shout into the blasted thing.

Today, however, he was inordinately loud. "What could you possibly have had to talk about anyway?" he demanded. Hermione grinned as she made her way from the crowded street into The Leaky Cauldron. It was just the opening she'd been waiting for.

"Oh, well, we started out discussing Potions theory. He's developed a fascinating new way to make Veritaserum, which depends upon combining the same ingredients that are used in the first stage of a delirium potion, in a completely different order, of course, and it isn't susceptible to – "

"Right," Ron said quickly, cutting her off. She could just see the glazed look in his eyes that would have settled in as soon as she started explaining. "I guess if you're interested in that sort of thing," he admitted grudgingly.

"I am, and then we talked about – "

"OK, Hermione, I get the idea! I still wanted to talk to you last night, and you weren't available. Are you going to listen to me now?"

Hermione's triumphant grin faded and she sank into a chair at a corner table, unaware that someone was observing her closely. "Of course, Ron, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he replied, exasperated. "I just want your help picking out something for Gabrielle."

Hermione smiled into the phone again. Ron had started dating Fleur's sister shortly after Fleur herself had left his older brother, Bill. She had a shrewd idea what it was Ron was picking out. Sure enough, he continued. "I already talked Harry into meeting me at O'Malley's today, and he'll be here any minute, can you come?"

Hermione and Harry had bullied Ron into learning to use a cell phone not three months previous. He'd been reluctant at first, but it had soon become a common occurrence to see one of the three of them with their ear glued to a phone. Not as quaint as charmed mirrors, perhaps, but certainly less likely to put Harry in a mood. All in all, it was a good way to stay in touch.

"I'm in the Cauldron, now. I'll be there in ten minutes," she said quickly. They made their goodbyes just as Tom approached her to inquire if she was ready to order. She sheepishly got up to go, apologizing for taking up a table, when she noticed the amused smirk on a very familiar face at the next table over.

"Miss Granger," Severus said by way of greeting. He could hardly look away and pretend he hadn't seen her, after all, though the thought occurred to him.

"Even the Headmaster calls me Hermione, now," she replied, collecting her things. Tom shuffled off, shaking his head as if he knew what was coming.

"Indeed?"

There was an uncomfortable moment when her shopping bags were collected, and yet nothing was said. "What was that nonsense you were spouting into your muggle contraption a moment ago?" he inquired, having allowed a suitably long pause.

"Oh, er, just something to get Ron to stop prying. If I talk over his head it usually gets the topic back to something that doesn't irk me," she admitted a moment later. A slight blush had overcome her features as she spoke, because she remembered quite plainly that the Potions Master had never even mentioned Veritaserum during the previous evening's conversation.

Severus bit back a grin. It wouldn't do to be seen smiling in public. "I see," was all he responded. Another short silence found him wondering if there was something else she wanted. She was looking at him as though she was about to start firing off questions, and he was sure he didn't have the patience to endure it. Thankfully, however, she snapped out of it and excused herself politely before making her way toward Diagon Alley.

Severus sipped his drink, avoiding the bartender's eye. Tom would be sure to wonder why he hadn't snapped at the girl, as was his habit this time of year. In fact, only half an hour previous, he'd snapped at Tom himself, though he could no longer recall what for. He tossed back the last of his drink and left his money on the table. He had plans for the evening, and wanted to be sure the elves had cleaned his quarters sufficiently.

* * *

"You finally got it?"

"That appears to be the case." Severus stood with his back to his guest, sipping something and looking very pleased with himself. "I will be teaching fifth through seventh year potions and fifth through seventh year DADA. Albus says he'll hire someone else to cover each of the classes for the younger students."

"Well, that's just what you wanted, isn't it? No more dunderheads," Draco Malfoy laughed a little, which was more than he would have done in anyone else's presence, and finished his drink.

Severus swirled his cup again and wondered if it WAS what he wanted. It wasn't as if he had no options. In spite of his rather notorious bad temper, there were ex-students littering Europe who now worked in the Potions field, and not a few of them had contacted him again this year with job offers. It was a yearly thing, but this was the first year he'd been free to actually consider any of the possibilities. It was the first year he would ever work for Albus Dumbledore without any strings holding him in place.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at the young man who was currently lounging in his favorite chair. Never mind that there was another chair just beside it, you could always trust Draco to choose the best. Severus wondered briefly if he did it consciously and decided it was unlikely. No one ever annoyed him on purpose, after all.

"So I guess you'll be turning us down again then," Draco said, throwing him a devil-may-care grin as Severus seated himself in the other chair. Severus rethought his previous conclusion and scowled.

"Not necessarily, Mr. Malfoy. You did give me until June to decide. I intend to withhold my decision until that time."

It was Draco's turn to scowl, but he couldn't keep the expression in place. His uncle, who'd taken over the actual work involved in running the many Malfoy businesses, had asked him to approach Severus about heading up the R&D division of their perfume company, based in France. He'd been surprised when Severus informed him that his father had asked him the same question nearly every year since the Malfoys had acquired the company, and they'd shared a laugh over it earlier.

"My uncle doesn't much care when you come, as long as you agree to come. You could tell him you'll work for him in six years and he'll revamp his whole business plan to accommodate it," Draco said graciously. It was, after all, the truth. So complimentary had Lucius been in describing Severus to his younger brother that the man would gladly trade three of his top researchers for Severus Snape.

Severus allowed himself a smile at this. Compliments were rare things among Slytherins. He'd nearly formulated an equally generous reply when an odd tone filled the air. After a moment of puzzlement, he placed it as a very tinny rendition of an old Weird Sisters song. He grimaced as Draco looked apologetic and lifted his cell phone to his ear, propelling himself out of the chair to pace.

"Malfoy here," Draco said coldly into the phone, trying to keep his voice down. Naturally Severus would be listening.

"Draco, it's Harry. Are you still having that New Year's Party at the Switzerland MSO headquarters? I'd like to bring someone." Harry said all this quickly, and with an air of confidence he didn't possess. Draco tolerated him, but they had never become friends.

"Is it Weasley?" Draco asked contemptuously. To say that he and Ron were not friends either would be a gross understatement.

"No, of course not," Harry assured him.

"Nine PM," came the curt reply. "And it's a black tie affair," he continued, "don't come dressed – "

"Thanks, mate," Harry said quickly, making a mental note to wear something outlandish. Like a tie. Wouldn't that serve the arrogant prat right? "I've got to go. See you then."

Draco glared at the silent phone for a moment before thrusting it back into his pocket. He was still unsure as to exactly how Harry had come across his number, and, indeed, why the bloody Boy Who Lived even HAD a cell phone, but now was not the time to dwell on it. He could feel the weight of the Professor's gaze as he resumed his chair. His wineglass had been refilled, so he lifted it and calmly drained it again, blissfully unaware of the raised eyebrow he earned for his trouble.

Severus thought better of asking what had happened to upset his friend. He recalled clearly Lucius' temper during his first year as head of the Malfoy estate. Whatever it was, it would probably be taken care of by an eager underling before the week was out.

* * *

MSO, one of the many partnerships the Malfoy family had formed, then bought out over the centuries, was host every year to an elaborate New Year's party. Draco had never before been required to attend, and therefore had never seen the place. He was appropriately smug, however, as he shook hands with the few guests who warranted his personal attention. They would expect no less.

When Harry arrived, accompanied by both Ginny and Hermione, Draco forced himself not to roll his eyes. Harry was sporting a dark gray tie over his dress robes. "Ridiculous as usual, Potter," he commented quietly. He kept his expression neutral and shook Harry's hand politely in spite of it all. The illusory tie vanished, and both men smiled tightly.

"Nice place," Harry allowed, his eyes straying to the gleaming chandelier as he silently reminded himself not to wipe his hand on his robe. Like Draco, he had never quite gotten over the feelings of dislike that had taken up residence during their first train ride together.

Draco didn't respond to that obvious understatement, turning instead to Harry's entourage. "Mrs. Potter," he said, nodding. Then, "Granger." He kept his tone just this side of civil. Barely.

It wasn't that he cared particularly that her parents had been muggles. His dislike for Hermione, and Ron as well, stemmed almost entirely from jealousy. He and Harry would never get along, and truthfully Draco didn't mind that. He didn't like the man enough to care.

But he had no one, with the possible exception of Severus, with whom he would ever be as comfortable as Harry, Ron and Hermione were together. And that irked him on a primitive level. Harry he had to tolerate – the Malfoy businesses would certainly suffer if he were ever to be rude to him in public. He was under no such duress concerning Ron and Hermione.

Pondering these things unintentionally, he missed the fact that Ginny hadn't bothered to answer him. He snapped out of it in time to catch Granger's response, however. "Draco. A lovely party," she said quietly. He could detect no lie in her tone, and years of etiquette conditioning kicked in as he responded.

"Thank you. May I offer you a drink?" He was so annoyed with himself, even as he offered her his arm as well, that he missed the look of alarm that crossed Harry's face. It was well that he had, as that would surely have garnered a sneering response.

Hermione hesitated only a fraction of a second before deciding to accompany him. Harry and Ginny watched them walk away in bemused silence before making their way towards the tables to find their places for dinner.

They found Severus already seated, alone at a table for 8 and looking distinctly unapproachable. Presumably Draco would be sitting with him, but Harry took a seat beside him anyway. Severus cast an inconspicuous glance around the room before he spoke. He bypassed the customary greeting altogether.

"Baiting Draco again, Harry?" he asked quietly. "You ought to know better than to use your friends for such things."

Harry was a little surprised at the rebuke, but took it well. "If I'd wanted to irritate him, I would have brought Ron," he said good-naturedly. "Besides," he added, suddenly scowling, "they seem to be getting on well enough."

Ginny had charmed the empty bread plate beside her into a place-card with Hermione's name, and it was well that she had, as several people made a bee-line for their table as soon as they'd greeted Draco.

"Professor!" The first witch to approach them was dressed in very simple red satin robes. Unlike the latest style in England, her robes had cropped sleeves, which came to just past her elbows. Her long hair was bound at the nape of her neck. The effect, though certainly more severe than Ginny's flowing curls, was of a hurried elegance. She looked as though she had someplace else to be, but had made the time for this instead.

"Madam Haverty," Severus greeted her stiffly, in sharp contrast to his fluid movement as he rose to take her outstretched hand. In spite of his formality, however, his tone was not unkind. "A breakthrough at last?" he asked, as though picking up an old conversation. He pulled out for her the chair beside the one he was saving for Draco, and she sank into it with good grace, never questioning her placement.

"Yes, and you'll never guess where the idea came from."

Harry could hardly keep his eyebrows beneath his hairline as he took in the sight of this rambunctious woman facing the currently unflappable Potions Master. "Won't I?" Severus asked indulgently.

"Why, your article last October, of course!" Madam Haverty exclaimed, as Severus looked suitably skeptical.

"I was writing about the adverse effects of misusing poly-juice potion, Madam. I fail to see how that has any bearing on your research to create a potion to allow anyone to turn into an animal at will."

This was an out-and-out lie, but Severus had had years of practice, and the excitable Madam Haverty did not register that anything was amiss. Harry and Ginny, however, exchanged an amused glance and promptly tuned out the conversation.

Nearly half an hour later, when all the guests had arrived, Draco turned control of the festivities over to the President of MSO, an old Swede whose name he could not recall, and gratefully found his table. Hermione, who'd been pleasantly surprised by his civility, was still trailing after him. He found that he didn't mind. Her presence at his side had certainly prevented several over-eager women from propositioning him. And as he was quite sick of gold diggers, he was appropriately thankful.

Without a great deal of thought, he held out the chair next to Severus for her, and she sat. Draco himself sat in Madam Haverty's recently vacated chair. She'd disappeared only moments before, upon seeing them approach.

Harry hid his grin behind the rum and coke he'd special-ordered from the house elf serving their table. In spite of Ginny's place card, the seating arrangement had worked out to his liking.

Severus also hid his expression behind his drink. But he wasn't smiling. It was obviously going to be a long night. First he'd had to listen to that incompetent, idea-thieving imbecile. Now he would spend the rest of the night running interference between Harry and Draco, and fielding questions from the most talkative witch in the west. His mood was not improved by the knowledge that he'd published the poly-juice article specifically to aid MSO's stagnating R&D department. His headache was only made worse at the thought that he'd rather enjoyed discussing said article with Miss Granger the week before Christmas. Carefully dancing around his knowledge of the stolen potions ingredients during her second year had been quite entertaining.

If nothing else, he was relieved of the necessity to speak with her now, as she and Draco appeared to be content to continue the conversation they'd begun earlier.

"He wasn't a Slytherin."

"Naturally, but that doesn't change the fact that he was a lying, no account, pretty-boy fake," Hermione retorted vehemently. Severus quickly concluded that 'content' had been an incorrect assessment. Intent was perhaps more accurate.

"So all Slytherins are lying, no account pretty-boys, then?" Draco asked angrily. It was a testament to his concentration on Hermione that he didn't notice Harry's quickly hidden smirk. Severus didn't miss it, however, and shot him an annoyed glance.

Hermione took a deep breath. "No. Not all Slytherins are dishonorable. I was only pointing out that, contrary to popular belief, they also haven't cornered the market on it."

It took Draco a moment to assimilate this information, but when he did his hackles fell a bit. He risked a glance at Severus, looking for some support, but found only disapproval. No one else at the now full table was looking at them, and it was clear to Draco that they were purposely engaging themselves elsewhere. They must have been a bit louder than he'd thought.

"I agree," he said after a moment. "There are certainly a number of untrustworthy people from each house."

Hermione, pleased to have made her point in spite of Draco's initial assumptions, finally turned her attention to the rest of the table. She was sure there had been an insult veiled in Draco's polite response, but determined that if she ignored it, it would be overlooked by everyone else as well.

"Good evening, Professor," she said, setting a purse down on the floor beside her chair. She'd been a little chagrinned to discover just how tightly she'd been clutching it. Draco always did know how to push her buttons. It was especially difficult after he'd been so polite at the beginning of the evening. She put him out of her head. "I understand congratulations are in order. Draco tells me you instigated a sizeable breakthrough in the research here with that article we were discussing."

Draco looked startled for a moment, then recovered. They'd spoken of the progress MSO's team had made, but he had no reason to believe that Severus had had a hand in it. Professor Snape blinked once in surprise and then began to laugh. Obviously she'd put two and two together.

Hermione, Harry and Ginny were all smiling, and even the other 3 wizards at the table, all of whom had been present for at least part of Madam Haverty's gushing conversation, were smiling knowingly. Draco scowled. How he detested being left out! And concerning his own company, no less!

"Thank you, Miss Granger. They did, indeed, pick up on the clues I left them in my article, though they are convinced that it's a remarkable coincidence."

Hermione chuckled briefly before noticing the dark expression on Draco's face. She then proceeded to explain it all to him, careful not to sound as patronizing as she would have with Ron or Harry. Draco had, after all, been a reasonably good Potions student.

Severus found himself strangely annoyed that Draco had managed to commandeer her attention again so quickly. He shook the feeling off and allowed Harry to talk him into having one of whatever he was drinking.


	8. Duplicities Revealed and Nearly Revealed

**Chapter 7 – Duplicities Revealed and Nearly Revealed**

As the end of the evening neared, Draco decided that Hermione really wasn't so bad. In fact, he'd asked if she might be interested in the very same position that he'd offered to Severus a week previous.

Severus supposed he couldn't blame him. After all, he'd been a bit vague about whether he was even considering it, and Hermione was certainly an excellent choice. The truth was that he felt working with perfume, even Malfoy perfume, to be beneath him. Furthermore, he felt it was beneath Hermione. Her talents would be much better suited to anti-venoms and counter-poisons: things that mattered.

As a result, he'd been a right crank ever since Draco had made his offer. Thankfully Hermione, like Severus before her, had only said that she would consider it. Of course, she said it much more plainly, and with a great deal more grace. Draco had not spoken to him since that conversation, and he was pleased. Honestly he wasn't sure what he would say to him, and besides, Harry had become very entertaining after his third drink:

"So then a few nights later I hear him thrashing about in his bed again, right? And I figure it's another nightmare about spiders, and that was hilarious the first time, so I charmed my wand to record what he was saying. But when I got up in the morning all that recorded was moaning. It was awful, but it was great blackmail leverage, since it was…someone's name that he kept repeating. I don't know if she was really there or not, but he certainly thought so at the time." Harry's speech was a bit slurred, but his loyalty to Ron was still enough intact to keep that name secret. Severus ordered him another drink.

Ginny was shaking her head in disbelief. She would never get over the fact that her adored husband was drinking buddies with the Terror of the Hogwarts Dungeons. Harry's behavior wasn't so strange, really. It was Snape who was acting oddly.

"And what exactly did you use that leverage for? Something good I hope," Severus offered. He sincerely doubted that Harry had the necessary cunning to make full use of such a treasure. Blackmail info on the son of the man slated to be Minister of Magic in a few years was a rare gift indeed.

"Well, I made him keep a cover over Pig's cage every night," Harry began, looking rather shifty. His mind was reacting slowly, but he seemed to recall that he didn't want Severus to know just how crafty he could be. "And it did force him to talk to me sixth year when he was so stubborn." Severus was rolling his eyes, and Harry decided to stop there. It appeared that those were lame enough to convince him that Harry was harmless.

"I, for one, will never bother worrying if you manage to get blackmail material on me," he said dryly. Harry was just congratulating himself on yet another wool robe pulled over Severus' eyes when his beautiful wife added her two cents.

"He also made Ron dance naked through the common room one evening at a Quidditch victory celebration, and got him to use his OWN blackmail info on me to force me to go out with him that first time, AND had him fetching food from the kitchens for three solid weeks, and…"

"Right, Gin, er- thanks," Harry said, cutting her off belatedly. "I forgot about all those."

"Did you also forget the time you made him help you sneak back into the De-"

"That's enough, Gin!" Harry knew at once that he was in trouble as Severus sat up. All the alcohol-induced fogginess fell from his eyes as he stared hard at Ginny. The table had gone silent.

Draco was looking from Hermione's horrified expression to Severus' angry one. Several of his employees took this opportunity to join the dancing, and left hurriedly. Severus' temper was well known, even here.

"Explain to me why you went back to the Department of Mysteries, Harry," Severus demanded quietly. He didn't have any time to marvel at the details he'd gleaned from Ginny's mind. He'd obviously underestimated Harry's Slytherin tendencies. He would have to keep a closer eye on him in the future.

Harry was about to answer when Severus was distracted by Hermione's hand on his arm. He turned his gaze away to look at her. "This isn't the place for this discussion," she offered. She, too, kept her voice quiet, but she was not timid in her suggestion.

"And where were you while this foolish venture was taking place?" he asked swiftly. He saw the wisdom in changing the subject, particularly as they were all partially intoxicated.

"In detention with you," she answered dryly.

An evil smirk was her reward, and in response she laughed a bit, then cast a glance toward the dance floor. "Harry, I'm sure Ginny has been waiting all evening for you to ask her to dance," she said sweetly. Harry glared at her, but stood from the table anyway. He'd been maneuvered to safety by her machinations once again. He was just drunk enough to be unappreciative. Nevertheless, he and Ginny departed for the dance floor a moment later, and Hermione breathed the proverbial sigh of relief. A drunk Harry, crying over Remus and Sirius, whom he'd gone to the Department of Mysteries to mourn, would surely infuriate Draco and make the papers, embarrassing them all.

When she turned her attention back to the two remaining men at the table, they were both eyeing her with identical looks of grudging respect. "Nicely done, Miss Granger," Severus whispered, finishing off his drink.

"Yes, well I've had quite a lot of practice."

Severus was pleased by the turn the conversation had taken. Here, finally, was an opportunity to flaunt his knowledge of her deception so many years ago. "Indeed, it seems you are always responsible for my continued dealings with that man."

Hermione's eyes widened, and he could see her swallow hard. But at that moment, Draco touched her shoulder carefully. "Hermione, would you care to dance?" he asked, throwing a challenging look at his old Professor. Severus scowled when Hermione, grateful for an escape route from the impending conversation, accepted with a smile.

But as she danced the last dance of the evening, she could feel Severus' eyes on her. She thought it odd that he seemed so annoyed when she glanced his way. Of course, it was rather rude that they'd left him alone at the table, but honestly, he'd brought it on himself. If he'd not brought it up, she would certainly have sat there with them both for the next half an hour, wouldn't she have? She shifted her body very carefully to put a bit more distance between Draco and herself and wondered about her own motivations.

Severus noted her movements smugly. Apparently she was not quite as enamored with Draco as the egotistical young man seemed to think. He had an eye on Harry and Ginny as well, though it appeared there would be no more revelations from that quarter. With a long-suffering sigh, he stood, having determined that someone needed to see Harry home before he embarrassed Draco and gave him yet another reason not to like him. He approached them just as the song ended.

"Harry, perhaps I should accompany you home," he suggested delicately. "I believe I leant you several books, one of which I need for research tomorrow."

Harry blinked at him stupidly. Four drinks had apparently been too many. It was Ginny who answered. "We're fine, Professor, thank you. Could we owl you the book in the morning?"

Severus thought back and realized that Ginny had had nothing at all to drink. She would be able to handle it. "No need. I will stop by in the morning. I believe there will be a potion I can bring along to make for a more pleasant visit." He smirked as Ginny rolled her eyes in the direction of her husband.

"I think that would be much appreciated," she said quietly. "Oh, but could you see that Hermione gets home alright? I hate to leave her with – " She stopped, glancing across to the table where Hermione appeared to be gathering her things, Draco at her elbow. Severus could tell at once that she looked uncomfortable. It seemed Ginny noticed as well. "Oh no, I was afraid that might happen."

"I shall take care of it," he promised. Neither of them saw the stupid smile that plastered itself across Harry's face. Severus set off immediately in Hermione's direction with a stiff, "Goodnight." Ginny, upon returning her attention to Harry, asked him what he was so happy about. She got no response.

"Alright then, keep your secrets for now. I'll have it out of you later," she threatened good-naturedly. Then they headed for the Apparation point and home, waving goodbye to the room at large.

As he walked, Severus thought quickly about all the ways by which he might extract Hermione from the situation she was so obviously in. She'd spent the entire evening with a known playboy only to be surprised when said playboy expected her to go home with him. There was really only one option, and he was sure it would infuriate Draco. However, since he wasn't particularly pleased with him for offering Hermione his job, that didn't seem like much of a deterrent.

"Miss Granger?" he questioned as he approached. He watched as Draco's hand fell from her shoulder. She turned. "I wonder if you might be willing to assist me with one of the experiments we discussed last week?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. It was unheard of that Severus should ask anyone for _help_ with anything. "Certainly, Professor. Which one did you have in mind?"

"I intend to begin preparing several cauldrons full of the base for an invisibility potion tonight, and doing the trials in the morning." He answered carefully, not wanting to give Draco any reason to think that there was more to it than that.

"Oh. Well, most of what I'm qualified for you'll be doing tonight, then," she answered at once. "I suppose I should come along with you. Though, I think I'd like to stop at home and change into something I can work in."

"That will be acceptable," he intoned, doing a fair impersonation of 'bored.' As she leaned down to pick her purse up from the floor, he couldn't help but return the smirk Draco had given him earlier. As predicted, the Head of the Malfoy House was incensed. His chiseled jaw was set at an odd angle and his eyes were narrowed to fine slits.

"Goodnight, Draco. I had a lovely time," Hermione said. She was trying valiantly to keep the relief out of her voice, but it was a difficult thing. She'd never quite been propositioned in such a high handed manner as he'd attempted tonight. There had been little logical reason to say no, and it would have certainly caused hurt feelings if she'd been forced to do so.

"Draco," Severus said, nodding his goodbye as well. They shook hands and Severus smirked again at the level of restraint it must have taken him to not squeeze.

"Are you really beginning the experiment tonight, or are you just my own personal angel of mercy for the evening?" Hermione asked when they arrived in Hogsmeade.

"Regardless of my answer, you are NOT permitted to call me Gabriel," he responded dryly, earning another chuckle. It seemed that Miss Granger, like Harry, could appreciate his sense of humor when he was not actually making fun of her. But when she fell silent there was, once again, that uncomfortable moment when neither knew quite how to continue the conversation. That, he was sure, had never occurred between himself and Harry.

Hermione felt that the silence was a clear dismissal, and was surprised at the disappointment that welled up inside her. Could it be that she had hoped Professor Snape would let her help with one of his research projects? She nearly snorted at the absurdity of it. What self-respecting Gryffindor would ever willingly spend time with the man?

As quickly as her mind posed the question, it supplied the answer. Harry. And if Harry saw someone worth befriending in Severus Snape, well, then so did she. She geared up her courage and responded carefully. "I won't press my luck with Gabriel, but Severus will do nicely."

If he was startled by her presumption, he didn't show it. "Touché, Miss Granger," he said, a shadow of a smile beginning to form on his lips. "I will not begin preparations until 10 am tomorrow, after I've taken a hangover potion to the Potter residence," he added dryly.

He was pleased with this turn of events. It had never been his goal to 'make friends' with anyone. From his early childhood he had been taught that each person you cared about was just one more liability. Yet the years of struggling against Voldemort alongside a host of Gryffindors had taught him that each friend could also be a boon, if one chose his friends carefully enough. So he had observed, and waited. It had been after nearly 8 years of trust-worthy behavior that he'd begun to see the Headmaster as a friend. His friendship with Harry had taken only two years to develop, even in spite of the previous 5 years of bad history between them. He had come to respect Harry a great deal in those two short years.

And so he was pleased that he was to be given the opportunity to get to know Miss Granger. It wasn't that he found her particularly admirable. All the Gryffindors had done their part in the war – even Brown and Patil, as girlishly as they usually behaved, had drawn their wands and fought beside the rest. It was only the knowledge that Harry saw something in her worth caring for. And to the best of his knowledge, Harry had only been wrong once, when it came to choosing friends.

After his little speech, Hermione found herself unsure once again. Did he mean that she should return to Hogwarts tomorrow at 10, or was he simply answering her question? She quickly decided that he never said anything without a reason. "Maybe you should leave me some instructions in case you're late. Ginny won't let you leave until you've eaten. She's much more stubborn about that than Mrs. Weasley ever was."

"I am never late," he retorted at once. He enjoyed the surprise in her eyes, and the look of panic as she wondered if he was offended. Gryffindors had always been good sport for him, even before he'd begun to see them as easy prey, and especially SINCE he'd stopped seeing them that way. "However, an ingredient list will be on the desk in case I am unable to escape," he allowed after a moment.

Hermione laughed again, as much out of nervousness as because it was funny. "Alright then. I suppose I'll see you in the morning," she said, shaking her head in disbelief as she prepared to Disapparate. Severus Snape had a sense of humor. Who would have guessed it?

"A moment. I promised our esteemed Mrs. Potter that I would see you home."

"Really, that's not necessary. The Apparation point is less than a two minute walk from my flat."

"Nevertheless," he said arrogantly. He offered her his elbow as if he was going to lead her somewhere, though it was she who would direct their Apparation. With a bemused grin, she linked her arm with his.

On the way to her flat, they spoke of the next day's experiment. But their talk was abruptly cut off just outside her door. It was obvious that a great deal of activity was taking place inside. And no one was bothering to keep quiet.

Without so much as an exchanged glance, they both drew their wands. Rather than turn the key in the lock, which would make noise and possibly attract attention, Hermione whispered, "Alohamora."

The door swung noiselessly open to reveal a beehive of activity. Several men and women in official-looking uniforms were bustling around the place, obviously quite perturbed. The center of activity was a shoulder and arm, one butt cheek, and a foot, each in the usual positions (and thankfully clothed), but not attached to anything. Severus watched as an annoyed look crept over Hermione's face. She waved her wand in a complicated series of motions, and the last of her Wards dropped abruptly, allowing the splinched man to appear.

"Ronald Weasley!" she exclaimed angrily. Everyone in the flat stopped moving abruptly and turned toward Hermione. The silence was far louder than the hurried conversations of the moment before.

"Now just a minute, Hermione, I can explain," he began sheepishly.

"No, you can't. Get out, and take all of these people with you!" Hermione had rarely been this annoyed with her best mate. Nevertheless, the pathetic, pleading look on his face was already softening her resolve, so she turned to the other eight uninvited guests instead. "You heard me, go! All of you. I'm obviously no Muggle, so you aren't needed."

"All the Wards are down?" one brave soul ventured to ask. Hermione shot him a withering look.

"Yes, obviously I've taken them down," she said, gesturing toward Ron.

Equipment and notes were gathered in a flurry of activity, and several long moments later Ron stood facing Hermione in her silent living room. He had not yet noticed Severus, who'd gone to lean against the wall by the door to watch the drama unfold, as was his wont.

Hermione, being the fair-minded Gryffindor she was, gave Ron all of ten seconds to begin. When he remained silent too long, however, she went ahead and voiced her annoyance.

"Wasn't it you who INSISTED I erect Anti-Apparation Wards because you and Harry weren't around to _protect_ me from all the – how did you put it? – over-eager, smarmy bachelors who'd try to follow me home?"

"Yes," Ron sputtered, "but I didn't mean ME!"

At this, Severus chortled a bit, drawing Ron's attention. "I do not know anyone for whom that is a more apt description," he commented.

Before Ron had time to respond at all, Hermione's face had taken on a look of deep skepticism. She turned back to the pale man at the door. "Except maybe Draco?" she asked sweetly.

"With that possible exception," he allowed, giving her a tight smile, which she returned.

There was a beat of silence during which Ron looked, disbelievingly between the Professor he detested and his childhood friend. "Not you, too," he grumbled. Naturally Severus heard him, and he suspected Hermione had as well, though she ignored the comment.

"Why don't you sit down, Ron, and tell me what, exactly, was so important that you Apparated to my flat on New Year's Eve just after midnight to tell me about it?"

Ron inched his way slowly toward Hermione's soft, Muggle furniture, trying not to wince. Splinching was a painful proposition, but he knew better than to think he'd get any sympathy from Hermione. He HAD arrived uninvited, after all. "Do you two want anything to drink?" she asked, already on her way to the kitchen.

"Yes!" Ron called after her, just as Severus said, "Thank you, no."

The men looked at one another briefly. Severus raised an eyebrow, and after a moment Ron looked away. "I will not be staying. I believe that you, unlike most of your contemporaries, are perfectly safe with Weasley."

"Just what do you mean by that?" Ron asked at once, keeping his voice low. He wasn't feeling at all up to a fight with Snape, but he couldn't let the implied insult pass.

"I mean that you seem to have a penchant for unburdening young women of their virginity. In spite of your own attachment to young Miss Delacour, if I recall." Severus spoke softly as well, unwilling to actually share with Hermione the meaning of his previous comment. She could assume he'd been referring to Weasley's unparalleled ability to get everyone around him into trouble for all he cared.

Ron looked dumbstruck for a moment. "How – " he broke off his question as Hermione came back into the room, carrying a glass of wine and a bottle of butterbeer.

Severus was surprised to detect the bouquet of a wine he recognized. Fast on the heels of that recognition came the hope that she wasn't going to waste it on Weasley, whom he was sure would not appreciate it.

He tried not to look relieved as she handed Ron his customary butterbeer. "Sure you won't stay, Severus?" she asked, more for the sake of hearing Ron choke than for any other reason. She was beginning to understand why Harry still baited Ron this way. It was actually quite fun.

Tempting as it was to Severus to stay and enjoy a glass of wine and make Weasley uncomfortable, he was aware that he'd had his share of alcohol for the evening. "I think not," he responded, eyeing Ron coldly. Truthfully, he had no desire to spend any unnecessary time with him. Hermione nodded and walked him to the door.

"Until tomorrow, then," she said. She kept her voice down, as she didn't think Ron qualified for 'need to know' clearance on this one.

"Indeed," Severus responded. An instant later he was gone, having Disapparated from the hallway after a quick look to either side. Hermione shook her head as she closed the door. So much for the safe Apparation point.

"Now," she demanded, falling into the chair nearest the door and kicking off her shoes. "What's all this about?"


	9. It All Goes South Before It

**Chapter 8 – It All Goes South Before It Even Begins**

"He's asleep in my bed, last I checked," Hermione told Harry nonchalantly the next morning. "He got all weepy, saying he couldn't believe she'd said, "No." Never mind that I TOLD him after the first time he went off with Parvati that this is EXACTLY what would happen!"

"Breath, Hermione," Harry interjected wearily when she finally paused. They were sitting at his kitchen table, and Harry was cradling his head gently in his hands. He wished she wouldn't talk so loudly, but didn't dare ask her to be quieter. She was sure to scold him for the drinking if he did.

Besides, she seemed to be making an effort, which was more than his lovely wife had done. He was convinced that she'd woken him on purpose and practically shouted her entire day's schedule in his ear before slamming the door on her way to the Burrow. This, of course, was not how it had happened, but Harry's hangover wouldn't concede the point. He closed his eyes to shut out the thoughts.

The scene when Severus finally arrived with the hangover potion was predictable, though he'd expected it to be Ginny with her hand over Harry's on the table, comforting him. If he paused in the doorway to contemplate that for a moment, it was only for Ginevra's sake.

He put a vial of potion silently on the table, just to the right of Harry's outstretched hands. Hermione, who'd watched him come in, was not startled, but when Harry once again opened his eyes, it took him a moment of focusing on the vial before he realized what it must signify. "Thanks," he whispered gratefully, downing the potion in one go and sitting back in his chair to let it take affect. When he opened his eyes this time, they were clear and he wasn't squinting. Hermione took this as a good sign.

"Alright then, Harry?"

He grinned at her and nodded before turning in his chair to look at Severus, who was leaning against the wall behind him with an amused expression. "I believe I matched you drink for drink, Harry. You owe me thirty galleons."

Harry, now in full command of his faculties again, took in the expression before the words and responded appropriately with, "You were one drink short. You owe ME thirty galleons." They both grinned for a moment before Severus threw a bag down onto the table in front of him, where is landed heavily, chinking a bit.

Hermione just shook her head. She was about to comment on the strangeness of it all when Harry's phone rang. With an apologetic expression, he went to retrieve it from last night's robes, which were conspicuous by their presence in the middle of the living room floor. Hermione and Severus exchanged a knowing grin.

"Potter, it's Malfoy. Have you seen Gran- Hermione today?"

Harry held the phone away from his ear and stared at it as if it had offended him, or at least puzzled him greatly. "Yeah, mate," he answered easily after a moment, "she's been here nursing my hangover all morning." Harry, after a long talk with Severus near the end of sixth year, had decided at that time that he would force himself to treat Malfoy as a friend. His hope then had been that eventually the prideful bastard would come around. It had not yet come to pass, but Harry had learned that patience sometimes had its rewards, and so he continued to speak to him as if they'd been friends all their years at Hogwarts. He had a feeling, too, that it annoyed the blond bully to no end. That was also a plus.

"Do you think you could call off your Weasel, then, because my wand is in his pocket, and he's holding me against my own front door by my collar." Draco said all this into the phone only because Ron was, in fact, holding him against the door of Malfoy Manor with a wand to his head. And grinning evilly, as well.

Harry swore. "We're on our way, don't do anything." He glanced back into the kitchen. "Malfoy Manor," he said, before Disapparating. He never once spared a thought for his flannel pajamas and disastrously tousled hair. He was, however, thinking hard about how to make sure Draco didn't call in the Aurors in the time it would take him to get from the gate to the door. He took off at a run as soon as he arrived.

Severus and Hermione kept pace behind him as they all ran toward the forbidding house that was currently still hidden by trees. Hermione thought that any moment Severus would pull ahead, and they'd have to prevent him from murdering Ron when they finally caught up. However he had no such intentions. The intense look on his face, rather than anger, was only indicative of the many possible scenarios that were playing through his head. The cellular phone had amplified Draco's voice to the point that everyone had heard that Weasley was responsible for their current distress. By the time they'd reached the house, he had it all figured out.

"Ron, don't!" Harry panted. Severus, however, had his wits about him. The first thing he said was, "Accio wands."

Hermione was the only one who didn't stop running at the base of the stairs. Draco and Ron's wands passed her on their way to Severus' hand. She pulled Ron off of Draco far more easily than she'd expected. Apparently he'd already determined that he was in a great deal of trouble. He had not expected that Draco's 'one last phone call' request would be a call to Harry!

"What are you doing?" she demanded angrily. Ron just hung his head. Whatever rationale had led him to this course of action seemed suddenly irrational in the face of her fury. "Draco would have been more than justified to have called the Aurors instead of Harry."

At this statement, Ron looked back at Draco, who was smugly straightening his robes. Draco couldn't help but be pleased that Hermione was taking his side, even if she had turned him away the night before.

"Yeah, thanks, mate," Harry added, casting a dark look at Ron. Severus suppressed a grin even as Draco failed to do so. The look was hidden again quickly, however.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, turning her attention to Draco. She was still standing close to Ron with her hand on his arm, however. Draco scowled a bit, wondering if the beautiful girls were no longer supposed to fawn over the victim. "Oh, of course you are," she amended at once. She thought he'd taken her concern as an insult. Then, to make up for it, she added, "Thanks for not hexing him."

Harry and Ron both thought this was taking it a bit too far. It seemed clear that Draco had been in no position to hex anyone. They exchanged a look that clearly indicated that they both thought she was bonkers.

"Naturally, I wouldn't hex him, Hermione. Truth be known, I was also worried when he said you'd gone missing," Draco drawled, turning on the charm again at the first opportunity.

"How kind of you," she murmured. Harry could detect no trace of sarcasm, but Severus, who'd begun scowling the moment Draco spoke, relaxed a bit. It appeared that Hermione would not fall for the same trick twice. Draco also noticed her tone and smiled sheepishly in response, something no one present had ever seen him do.

"Do you know what we all need?" Harry asked suddenly. "Breakfast!" he answered himself. Draco glanced at a pocket watch. "It's lunchtime, Potter," he said, a crooked grin on his face.

"It's Harry, Draco," Harry replied glibly, earning an annoyed look from everyone present for various reasons. "And I haven't eaten yet today."

Severus and Hermione shared a glance, silently agreeing to put off the experiment still longer. Draco shrugged, not sure why he was agreeing, except that it was nice to be invited somewhere by people who didn't owe him money.

Ron, however, hung back when they all started walking. Hermione was the first to notice. She trotted back to him, ignoring Severus' inquisitive glance. "What's wrong?" she asked. He continued to look wistfully after Harry for a moment before answering.

"I guess I've embarrassed you both enough for one day. I'd better just go home – " he trailed off, then started again, "-to the Burrow, I mean." Gabrielle was not likely to welcome him home at this point.

"Ron, we aren't embarrassed, but you've got to stop threatening everyone I take an interest in just because you didn't introduce me to him. Terry told me about what happened after your last Quidditch match in November."

Ron winced. He'd been out-of-line that day, too. But he'd apologized, and Terry had promised not to tell Hermione. He thought for a moment that he could, perhaps, justify knocking him upside the head for telling, before remembering that that's why he was in trouble in the first place.

"Right. Well, I'll work on it," he said, flashing her a roguish grin that meant he had no intention of doing any such thing. "But I don't think I can sit there and watch him make eyes at you over breakfast, so I'm headed home." Already in his mind, the Burrow had become 'home' again.

Hermione grinned. "Alright. We'll have lunch sometime this week instead," she offered.

"Done."

* * *

Breakfast was, as one would expect, a tense affair. Harry was late, having hurried home to put on some more acceptable clothing. By the time he arrived in Diagon Alley, his friends were seated around a table in the Leaky Cauldron. He plopped himself down and grinned, wondering why everyone was so quiet.

Casting a glance at each person, he ventured a guess. "So, Draco, what'd she say to upset you now?"

Draco scowled harder and Severus did a fair impersonation of Minerva's disapproving cluck. Hermione chuckled, earning a dark look from both of the Slytherins present. "She simply spoke the truth, Harry. That is not something to which Draco is accustomed. Nearly everyone he interacts with lies through their teeth to make him happy," Severus answered when it became obvious that Draco wouldn't speak.

Harry nodded knowingly. He had a few of those kind of groupies, too. They'd tell you anything to get you to talk to them a little longer. He'd become sick of it almost immediately. "You can always count on Hermione for the truth," he commented. He waved to the bartender to come over and take their order.

Severus, however, cast a sly look at Hermione. "Is that so?" he asked quietly. He took great pleasure in the sudden widening of her eyes.

Hermione was just sure that he was about to reveal the letter. All these years, he'd never told. Harry was much less volatile than he'd been back then, but she didn't imagine that he'd appreciate it. In fact, there was a good chance he'd be very upset about the whole thing.

But Harry's no-nonsense tone as he replied, "Yes," seemed to bring the conversation to a close. Severus only smiled knowingly in response, and Hermione, grateful for the reprieve, set about making things up with Draco.

"So what different potions on the market today are made by MSO?" she asked him. This led to a more-or-less pleasant conversation, which interested Harry not at all. It was interesting to note, however, that although Draco knew what his company produced, most of Hermione's more difficult questions were answered by Severus. By the time their food had arrived Harry and Draco were talking about Quidditch, quietly so as not to interrupt the potions conversation that was still taking place.

"No, they never asked me to sign. That was just another rumor the Prophet put out. Fact is, I'm not that great. Being a good seeker in school doesn't mean I'd be able to deal with what goes on in the Pros. And since I didn't play 7th year at all, I don't think anyone even considered me."

"I got an offer from the Chudley Cannons, but I just didn't think I could stand all that orange," Draco drawled, enjoying a brief feeling of superiority. He rarely got to feel that with Harry around. "Besides, once my - - father was killed, I had the estate to think about. My uncle can only do so much. He just doesn't have the right persona to handle things the way Lucius did." They had strayed into an uncomfortable topic. No one knew who had thrown the curse that killed Lucius Malfoy. Whoever had done it wasn't telling for fear of retribution, and with good reason. Lucius had not officially changed sides - hadn't had time to, really - but they did know that he'd kept Severus' secret safe until the very last. He had found him out nearly a year before the end.

"I imagine you've got a lot on your plate with all that," Harry commented carefully. Then they were off, discussing all the various trips and appearances Draco had been making for the last year.

Severus and Hermione, however, were still discussing potions. They'd just about worked out the details of the day's research experiment when Draco looked at his watch and exclaimed. "It's nearly 3. I was due in Madrid 20 minutes ago!"

Once again Severus was shocked to discover how fast time seemed to go when he was talking with Hermione. The witch in question, however, was unsurprised. Even she tended to get bored talking too long about potions. She wanted to be DOING something. "And we've got some empty cauldrons waiting for us," she added, standing as Draco did.

"Alright then, I guess I'm the odd man out," Harry laughed good-naturedly. "I suppose I'll swing by the Burrow and see if I can crash the party. Ron'll be wanting someone to talk to anyway."

Draco nodded, shook hands all around, and Disapparated abruptly. A moment later Harry was gone as well.

Severus shook his head and rolled his eyes, fishing through a deep pocket for the galleons he needed to pay for everyone's meals. He was entirely unaware that Hermione, used to such things with Harry and Ron, was doing exactly the same thing. It wasn't until they each laid the money on the table that they realized what they'd been doing. They exchanged slight smiles.

"It seems you also get left with the bill when everyone runs out," Severus commented wryly, as they re-counted and pocketed some of the money before standing to leave.

"Once in a while – the boys never remember their appointments, so they're always leaving in a hurry."

* * *

Severus and Hermione flooed to Hogwarts rather than walking, having already wasted much of the day in what Severus generously referred to as "damage control."

The disused fireplace of the Potions classroom was spotless, but Hermione brushed at her arms out of habit as she moved into the room. It was quite chilly in the unheated dungeons, and she was soon rubbing her arms to warm them. Severus appeared not to notice the cold as he set about procuring the necessary ingredients from his supply cupboard. He was returning to one of the worktables, arms laden, when he heard the whoosh of flames.

Hermione pocketed her wand, having lit a roaring fire, and turned to begin the work. She was startled to see that Severus was plunking down the various bottles and jars haphazardly. As soon as his hands were emptied, he extinguished the fire, scowling at the soot. "I don't suppose it occurred to you that such filth in the air will ruin the validity of these trials," he said scathingly.

Chagrined, Hermione watched as he gathered up the items again. For a moment, she thought he was going to put them all right back where he'd got them, and ask her to leave. Instead, he headed for the blackboard. Upon reaching it, he whispered a password, which caused a door to appear. He turned back to her.

"Sorry," she said, quickly.

He jerked his head, simultaneously flicking his hair out of his eyes, and conveying disdain for her apology as well as her mistake. "We'll work in here, instead."

Hermione shook her head ruefully as she followed him into another room, this one with only one, much larger, worktable. The walls of this room were bare, and there was no heat source to be found. It hadn't taken her very long to get on his nerves. She hoped she could avoid upsetting him any further. After all, if Harry could get along with him, surely she could as well.

"I'm sure you recall that potions respond best when the only source of heat is the flame over which they are suspended. Beauxbaton had several years of record injuries as a result of a Potions Professor who kept her classroom too warm," Severus offered, as he set his many containers down on the table. He remembered very well the lessons from the early days of his friendship with Harry. He'd snapped at her, and she would need to know why, or they would not have a civil word between them for the rest of the day.

"Of course. I wasn't thinking," Hermione replied. Though her tone was a trifle cold, Severus decided that would do, and bent to fetch a cauldron from under the table.

Very shortly, Hermione was provided with a cutting surface and knife, and they each set to work chopping the ingredients as per the instructions Severus had evidently written the night before.

When each of the 16 different necessary ingredients was measured, and rendered to the proper consistency, Severus lit the fire under the cauldron, and added the liquid base. Hermione, who by this time was quite curious about why he'd made certain substitutions and deviations from the usual quantities, was doing her best to hold her questions at bay.

Severus, aware of her inquisitive nature, was thoroughly amused by her silence. He added several ingredients, and remained quiet through several stirring cycles. "Are you so angry with me that you won't speak to me, even to ask what you'd like to know?" he said, nearly an hour after they'd begun.

The hint of humor in his voice was lost on her, and she immediately became defensive. "No. I'm just trying not to be annoying," she said bluntly. "But since you bring it up, why the additional lacewings? Wouldn't it be safer to – "

At the word lacewings, Severus' head snapped up. He had just enough time to wonder WHAT additional lacewings before a huge bubble appeared in the cauldron between them. Knowing there was little he could do at that point, he cut her off with a harsh word: "DOWN!"

A moment later the bubble exploded, shooting the thick, gooey potion all over. From their new position, crouching under the table, Severus and Hermione could see it dripping down the walls in purple gobs, leaving a sickly yellow trail behind. There was a heavy moment of silence, completely unlike those they'd shared previously. Then Severus moved aside and stood stiffly.

With what little dignity he felt he retained after that fiasco, he strode to the door opposite the one through which they'd entered, slamming it behind him. Carefully, so as not to clink the bottle to the glass, he poured himself a shot of firewhiskey and downed it. It had been years since any experiment he'd personally envisioned had failed so spectacularly. And though the word never entered his mind, he was thoroughly embarrassed.

What he DID think was that somehow, some way, Hermione must have chopped too many damned lacewings. And he, so trusting of the quality of her work, had not double-checked before adding them. He paused to contemplate this for a solid minute, but came to no other conclusion. In fact, the only thing he accomplished was to allow the anger billowing up in his throat an extra moment to simmer before he threw open the door to the workroom again.

"How many bloody lacewings did you chop?" He demanded, his voice deceptively quiet. But Hermione had spent too many hours in his classroom to be fooled. She turned from the wall she'd been cleaning and made to walk back toward the table, intending to show him the instructions he'd written.

Severus stepped between her and the table. "Do you not recall?" he asked snidely. "My instructions clearly stated that I needed 6 equal portions of 2 milligrams each. Tell me you didn't just chop 6 lacewings."

This, of course, is precisely what Hermione had done. However, she could see no reason to hang her head in shame. Instead, she tilted her chin defiantly. "Yes, that's what I did, but – "

"IDIOT GIRL!" he roared, finally losing his temper entirely. "The ONE TIME in 8 years that you make a mistake, and it has to be today!" he exclaimed. All thoughts of a possible friendship with her had flown from his head. At this point all he wanted was to be left alone to clean up his mess and try again. In his anger, he failed to notice that the mess had already vanished.

"The one time **I** make a mistake?" Hermione repeated incredulously. She was already kicking herself for believing that she could 'get along' with Severus Snape. She stormed past him, practically shoving him aside, to reach the newly cleaned table, where she grabbed his list. Turning on her heel, she thrust the list in his face. "Why don't you read for us both exactly what your list says about lacewings?"

Severus snatched the list from her fingers, pinching her fingers as he did so. His eyes scanned the list, noticing for the first time that his admittedly cramped handwriting was a bit difficult to decipher. He'd slanted it somewhat more than usual, and it was quite small, and perhaps a bit messy. Nevertheless, knowing his own writing as he did, he was able to translate those few extra marks between the 6 and the word 'lacewings' as – 20mg. Naturally, he proclaimed this in his patented superior tones.

"It says nothing of the sort!" Hermione exclaimed, taking it back out of his hand. "It says, '6,' and then it looks like you crossed something out before writing – "

"If you had a question about the instructions, you should have asked," he snapped.

"I didn't HAVE a question, because there's a line through the word!" By this time, Hermione was furious. Her face was quite red, and her free hand was clenched into an angry fist. Severus, beginning to see that she was, perhaps, correct, decided to try a different tact. He may even have considered apologizing, but Hermione, after a moment to breathe, continued. "Maybe if you'd bothered to take a sobering potion before you wrote it all out, I wouldn't have had so much difficulty reading it!" she accused loudly.

"And perhaps if you'd been less defensive earlier you would have mentioned it and saved me having to clean up this mess!" he shouted back, glaring and gesturing at the room at large. They stared at one another for a moment in silence.

At this point Hermione's face took on an expression of disbelief. She took a deep breath, and answered in a cold, but quiet voice. "I have already saved you having to clean up the mess. Now I will also save you having to deal with an idiot girl for the remainder of the afternoon." Without another word, she made her way back through the classroom, back through the castle, and back to Hogsmeade, leaving Severus staring rather stupidly around his spotless laboratory.


	10. And the Past Shall Haunt Them All

**Chapter 9 – And the Past Shall Haunt Them All**

"No, Ron. I absolutely will NOT go out with another of your Quidditch buddies," Hermione hissed into her cell phone. She was late, and rushing through Diagon Alley to meet Ginny at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes before they had lunch and discussed Harry's upcoming birthday. Last year, everyone had been too caught up in the celebrations over the demise of Voldemort to do anything special. This year it was clear that Ginny intended to make up for it. Ron was also interested in the festivities, hence his offer, once again, to bring her a I date /I .

"Come on, Hermione, he's a great guy, you'll like him," the cell phone whined.

"Ron, your idea of a great guy is someone who's so focussed on Quidditch that after a year of dating, he'll not be able to remember the color of my eyes."

"Yeah, well anything's better than Malfoy!" Ron retorted angrily.

"Are you still on about that? It was a misunderstanding…on YOUR part!" Finally there was silence for a moment. It was brief, but precious, and Hermione felt herself smirk triumphantly. That was also brief.

"Tell you what," Ron said thoughtfully. "You have someone to bring by the first of July, and I'll stay out of it. I won't even hex him, I swear," he added pleasantly. "But if on July second you can't give me a name, you'll go with the person I choose."

Hermione thought this over quickly before disregarding the entire idea. "Sorry Ron. I'd rather go alone than with one of your mates. I listen to you and Harry talk Quidditch because you're my best mates. But I'm not going to subject myself to it from a potential boyfriend as well." She knew, by the time she'd finished, that he was angry with her again. It'd been this way ever since New Year's. Weeks would go by when everything would be fine between them, but then he'd try to find her a date, and everything would go wrong again.

The first time, she'd even agreed to go – just to placate him after the fiasco at Malfoy Manor. But it had taken all of 30 minutes (enough time for their food to arrive) for Hermione to decide that the Chudley Cannons' Seeker was NOT dating material. It looked to her as though Ron was giving lessons on dining etiquette to his new mates. Not that she would ever tell him so.

As it was, she'd been hard pressed to come up with a reason why she wouldn't see the boy again, but she'd put her foot down. That had been the first fight. She'd not given in since.

Ron was still silent. "Look, I'm almost to the twins' shop. I've got to go," Hermione said quietly. Still there was no response, though she could hear him breathing, so she knew he hadn't hung up on her. "You've got to quit worrying about me so much. I'll find someone when I'm ready, Ron."

"Yeah, alright," came the grudging reply. Hermione smiled. At least there wouldn't be three days of silence over this one.

"I'll talk with you later."

They hung up following chilled goodbyes, and Hermione raised her eyes to the latest optical assault that Fred and George had posted in the shop window. Squinting, she pushed open the door.

* * *

By the time lunch was concluded, Hermione had decided that Harry was going to have a rotten birthday, indeed. It wasn't that he wouldn't like the get-together Ginny was planning with her family, and their friends. It was the explosive mixture of personalities that was going to ruin it all. And she thought, sadly, that part of it was her fault.

Firstly, she'd asked if Ginny planned to invite Draco, which she hadn't. Harry had made a point to be kind to Draco since the middle of their sixth year, or so. Ginny had done no such thing. To the best of Hermione's knowledge, Ginny hadn't spoken to the man once since graduation. Impressive, considering how many times they'd been thrown together during various Ministry functions.

Ginny had scowled thoughtfully, and in the end decided that she'd better invite him. Hermione knew it cost her to do it, but she watched as Ginny carefully put the youngest Malfoy's name on the guest list. It was only after that was settled that Hermione remembered that Arthur Weasley would be attending and he was every bit as fond of Draco as he'd been of Lucius. Which is to say, not at all.

Moving past that issue, Hermione asked whether Ginny had been planning to invite Professor Snape, which she had. Upon seeing Hermione's grimace of distaste, however, Ginny put down the quill and pushed the paper away.

"Are you going to bother mentioning what exactly went wrong? The last I heard, you and he were getting on quite well over breakfast at the Cauldron with Harry and Malfoy."

Hermione bit back a sigh and glanced around. She'd been avoiding telling Harry about the argument she'd had with the Potions Master, not wanting to let that prevent them all from getting together. Still, it had been several months, and she wasn't feeling any better about the prospect of seeing him in July.

"The very first potion we attempted exploded," she confided in Ginny. She told her the tale in its entirety, faltering a bit over the part where she'd accused him of writing the ingredient list while inebriated. Ginny was in stitches the whole time.

Harry, however, sporting a guilty flush and staring at the plaque in front of the latest racing broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies, didn't think it was funny. "Finite Incantem," he thought to himself, ending the enchantment he'd placed on his wife's favorite earrings that morning. His plan, so carefully thought out, and so patiently unfolding, was in shambles already.

He made a mental note of the broom's specs, in case anyone asked him later what he thought of it, and pushed his way into the heavy spring air. The cloying scent of magnolias was wafting into the alley from somewhere. It was a decadent odor, and his eyes strayed toward Knockturn Alley almost instinctively, though the smell certainly couldn't be coming from there. The sorts of wizards who went into Knockturn Alley were generally not trying to use their magic to grow anything, particularly not anything pleasant.

He walked in the opposite direction from where his wife and friend sat at Florean's, and thought about what the next move should be. He knew that Ron was still pressuring Hermione about finding a man. Normally, he'd have dissuaded him, but in this case it worked well into his plan. As long as Ron was being so bullish about the issue, who would suspect that Harry was working in the background?

The answer to that, of course, was that Severus would, if he wasn't VERY careful how he approached him. For approach him he must, or he'd be running interference without his help at the party Ginny was planning.

As he thought, his footsteps took him where his eyes had been gazing, and shortly he found himself at the junction to Knockturn Alley. He grinned to himself and quickened his step. In spite of his aversion to fame, he very much enjoyed strolling Knockturn Alley. Eyes turned hastily away from him, and conversations quieted. Angry customers, arguing over obscene prices or poor quality, were suddenly silenced.

Yes, the very air felt menacing. They hated him, and he knew it. But not one of them dared approach him. For that matter, not twenty of them together dared it. And as they could hardly get along for a moment without the iron fist of Voldemort to hold them together, he had nothing to fear. And it showed on his face. He flitted casually into a few shops, not making any real effort to uncover Dark items, or shady deals. He caught a glimpse of Mundungus at one point, but knew better than to hail him. The shabby man turned his head, and pretended not to know him. If he'd done otherwise it would have gone badly for him as soon as Harry's back was turned.

He had a bit of a draw to danger – something Hermione had unwittingly accused him of years ago. "Don't you think you have a sort of I saving people /I thing?" she'd asked him once. He was now self-aware enough to admit that he did. It wasn't a complex he'd set out to acquire, but through the inescapable expectations of those around him, acquire it he had. Additionally, he missed the excitement a bit.

Thinking on this, he found his answer. THAT was a feeling that he knew Severus must share, though they'd never spoken of it. The adrenaline rush just before everything went haywire; the anticipation of victory; even the constant worrying over a possible defeat. Voldemort's death had left him both more and less valuable to the Wizarding World than he had been during the war. If he felt that way, he knew Severus must.

He took it on faith that it was THAT feeling which had caused him to seek a fight with Hermione. Suddenly he knew just what to say. He Apparated from the filthy shop he'd wandered into quite abruptly, unaware that the whole of Knockturn Alley breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Ginny arrived home to find him tying a rolled parchment to Hedwig's leg. "Go visit Severus, girl. Stay until you get an answer, but don't pester him," he cautioned. "You know how he gets. If you're quiet and good, he may even give you a treat."

Hedwig hooted dolefully as if to ask why she must go to a man whose treats were conditional. "Don't worry," Harry consoled her, petting her head affectionately. "I'll give you two when you get back, just in case he's all out." The bird rustled her wings, apparently appeased, and flew off into the settling fog as Harry chuckled to himself.

* * *

"There has been no opportunity, Draco," Severus said wearily. "Nor much hope of success. I have spent most of my life in seemingly fruitless struggles. Could you give me a moment's peace?"

Draco had never possessed a great deal of sympathy for anyone. "But your struggles weren't fruitless. Everything you did turned out just so, didn't it? If anyone can do it, you can."

It was an old conversation. From the moment Draco had learned of his father's death, he'd been after Severus to help clear the man's name. In addition to Lucius' reputation being bad for business, he knew his father had continued to follow the Dark Lord out of a fear that his family would be killed if he did not. It was certainly a valid fear, as several Death Eaters had defected, and their families had been slaughtered mercilessly. Severus knew this as well as any, and didn't appreciate the reminder. He made no move to answer.

"He confronted you about being a spy nearly a year before the Dark Lord fell, and you admitted it. He never betrayed you. He even helped you, when he could do it discreetly. The Headmaster told me as much. You could put the thoughts in a Pensieve, or offer to take Veritaserum, or – "

"You are not thinking clearly. A Potions Master: offer to take Veritaserum? Do you believe for one moment that anyone would trust the outcome of THAT interrogation?" Severus stood from his chair, pushing it back slightly, but silently. He noticed that Draco waited quietly as he went back to the bar and ordered another drink. As a reward, he brought one back to the table for Draco as well. "For 20 years I kept the anti-serum in my system, 24 hours a day. I am now immune to the stuff. Even I cannot brew a batch strong enough that it has any affect on me whatsoever."

A silent moment passed between them. "He is dead, Draco," Severus said finally. "You are not. I suggest you begin thinking about your life, and doing what you can to repair the family name."

As was always the case, the conversation ended there. Yet Severus knew it wouldn't be the last he heard on the issue. He suppressed a sigh and finished his drink. It was time he did something about it. He knew he owed Lucius that much.

The problem was, it wouldn't be easy. Particularly not now that he'd alienated the person who, he suspected, could provide the testimony they would need.

* * *

Hermione woke to find that the fan in her flat had shut down. Stifling a curse, she groped for her wand on the bedside table, and propelled the thing by magic. She had to wonder what was going on – this was the second time in three weeks that she'd lost electricity in the middle of the night and awoken in a tangle of sweaty sheets, having become much too hot with neither air conditioning nor fan to cool her.

Even Crookshanks had deserted the bed in favor of the cool linoleum of the kitchen, as she found out when she made her way there for a sip of juice before going back to bed. She tripped over him and fell hard, only just catching herself against the counter. This time she cursed in earnest. Crooks only yowled and headed back to the bedroom. She poured herself some juice and went back to bed, ignoring the nagging sensation that she'd had a nightmare.

It was only as she fell asleep again that she began to remember what she'd dreamed, and she shook herself awake again. i Another sleepless night, then. /I She lit several candles, and her wand, and picked up the most recent book her mail order university had recommended she read, glad that her wakefulness had driven her dream from her mind so completely.

The mail order university missive had arrived via owl the day her N.E.W.T.s had been made public. Harry had laughed, remembering Filch's packet of correspondence magic course information, but Ron had been awed:

"Of course, I should have realized you'd get one but, just, WOW!"

"Alright, Ron, what is it, exactly?" she had asked, holding the garish advertisement sideways to read the bits that had turned vertical on the page.

Ron struggled for a moment. "A long time ago, wizards – and witches – who were really good at Hogwarts would apprentice themselves to Masters in their chosen fields. But it was a really corrupt system. Masters would use their apprentices as slaves, or for experiments. At some point the Ministry got involved and passed a law that said that a Master and Apprentice couldn't ever actually I meet /I one another. It kept things from getting out of hand, you see." He paused. Hermione was looking incredulously from him to the glittering parchment. "No, really," he said, trying to be reassuring.

Naturally, Hermione had checked up on all of it with Professor McGonagall. Outlandish as it had seemed to her, it turned out to be true. A group of Masters in Potions, Charms, Divination, and even Minerology – a class Hogwart's hadn't offered, and one that was crucial to advanced Potions – were inviting her to study with them via Owl Post. Minerva had advised her to haggle a bit over the yearly tuition, which she'd done.

And now she was earning her new titles in both Potions and Minerology. She'd been horrified to discover that they expected 7 MORE years of study before that level could be reached, but she'd doggedly begun the project in spite of that. She intended to finish them both in that time.

Tonight, however, the new Minerolgy text, u Sticks Vs. Stones: A Study in Comparative Stability /u did not fascinate her as it normally would. She thought back to the previous power outages. She'd never bothered to check with her neighbors, since it was so late at night. But she suspected now, having realized that she was dreaming, that it was her own magic that had caused them. Not until she was settled would the lights come back on. Stretching her neck to the right and left, she replaced the book on her bedside table, and doused the lights again. She didn't wake again until morning.


	11. Procrastinating, Again

**Chapter 10 – Procrastinating…Again**

"You recall what I told you about prolonged separation from a memory, Hermione?" The Headmaster sat behind his desk and regarded her calmly. It had been nearly a year and a half, now, and he'd been expecting her within the week. The side effects were quite predictable in this sort of situation.

"Yes, Sir, but I was hopeful that it wouldn't apply to me," she answered honestly. She smiled at him slightly, in spite of the sick feeling that was growing in her stomach. She remembered quite plainly what he'd told her:

_Miss Granger, you have surely noticed by now that you are unable to remember the last four days. Please do not interrupt me as I explain the reason. You were taken captive by Death Eaters – Dolohov and Avery, I believe, have mentioned to Professor Snape that they were involved. They treated you harshly, but are quite frustrated that you told them nothing. You found a wand and managed to escape. However, after a day of being treated for your injuries, you came to me to request that the memories of your ordeal be removed from your mind to give you time to come to grips with the concept."_ At this point she recalled the shudder that had gone through her at the realization that those memories must have been traumatic indeed, for her to have hidden from them in such a cowardly fashion.

She'd done it for Harry, of course. That's what she'd told herself, and the Headmaster had agreed that it would be better for Harry not to know what had befallen her. If she'd had to deal with the trauma then, Harry would certainly have noticed. Furthermore, she herself would have been of little use in the fighting that had followed.

Now, however, the struggle was over. Voldemort was dead, and no one had to tip toe around Harry for fear of adversely affecting the outcome of the battle. Her excuses had run out, and it was time to face the past. More than time, she knew, as she recalled his dire warning:

_This is only a temporary measure, Hermione. One day soon, you will have to reclaim these memories. The consequences of failing to do so are severe. At first it will be only nightmares you cannot remember, but soon after that you will begin experiencing moments of inexplicable distraction. You've heard the phrase, "State of Grace?" In the end, it could lead to a complete breakdown of your mind, not substantially different than the fate of Frank and Alice Longbottom."_

Of course, at this, she'd asked why he couldn't just Obliviate her. It would be so simple if she didn't ever have to worry about the memories again. He'd had a reason, though she couldn't recall at the moment what it had been. Whatever it was, she'd been swayed by it at the time, and agreed to reclaim the memories as soon as she felt far enough removed from the situation to deal with them. She paused as he continued to gaze at her sadly, wondering if her lapse of memory was yet another symptom. It was that thought which resolved her. She would do what she had to do. Only, not just yet.

"The rules apply to everyone eventually, my dear," he answered finally. He stood, then, and went to the cupboard to bring out the Pensieve. But Hermione stood as well.

"I'd like to wait until after Harry's birthday party," she said abruptly. Without turning to look at her, Professor Dumbledore replaced the bowl on its shelf, schooling the disappointment away from his features before he turned back to her.

"Very well, Miss Granger. You should return on August first, and plan to spend a few days with Madam Pomfrey." It wouldn't do for her to see disapproval of any kind from him, as it might negatively affect her healing process when the time finally came.

"Yes, Sir," she said again, a trifle too quickly. And then she was gone. He sat silently at his desk for some time before one of the portraits pointed out that it was nearly time for lunch.

* * *

Hedwig had returned with Severus' response in a very bad mood. It seemed that he'd snubbed her again, and sent her back without a treat. Harry made it up to her by opening the jar and setting it in front of her on the windowsill. Ginny snorted in annoyance. "You'll make her sick," she commented, taking the jar away and leaving only three treats out on the sill. 

Harry wasn't listening, however, as he unrolled the letter.

_Naturally, you may come to the castle at any time. Has anyone ever told you differently? I'll be meeting with Draco until this evening, but you may come then, or at any other time this week. I don't imagine I'll be brewing much, so you'll have to track me down in my quarters, or at meals._

_Regards,_

_SS_

He penned a quick response that he would come for supper at Hogwarts the following Thursday, knowing that Severus hated both waiting, and being surprised before he was prepared. He fished a few more owl treats out of the jar and gave them to Hedwig before asking her to take the letter.

Ginny laughed when Hedwig hooted indignantly and snatched the letter from his hand, rather than waiting for it to be tied to her leg. She took off without waiting to hear whether she was expected to return with a response.

"Honestly, that bird's nearly human," Harry groused. "And she's just as bad as Ron and Hermione when it comes to Severus."

"Be fair, Hermione's always been kind to him," Ginny said. She had no intention of telling Harry about his friends' potion fiasco.

Harry snorted his disbelief, and poured himself a butterbeer, joining her at the kitchen table. "She just likes arguing with Ron."

"True enough," Ginny agreed readily. It was common knowledge that Hermione and Ron could fight better than anyone they knew. They shared a grin, and Ginny went back to peeling potatoes, sedately, and without the fuss that her over-wrought mother was known for. Harry's mind wondered to Thursday, and he began to plan out the conversation in earnest.

* * *

Harry was seated at the Head Table talking with Filius long before Severus made an appearance. "I don't know why she didn't choose Charms. I promise it wasn't because she had less fun in your class, though," Harry answered jokingly as the short Professor expressed his despair over 'losing' Hermione to a different field of study. 

"After all, no class could possibly be LESS fun than mine, right Potter?" Severus asked scathingly from behind him. A few of those seated nearby grimaced, waiting for the worst.

"Absolutely," Harry agreed, without missing a beat.

Severus simply grunted in response, and, when his food appeared, began to eat. From the middle of the table, Dumbledore smiled over at him, but he pretended not to notice. After a few bites, he turned his attention back to Harry.

"Well, are you going to tell me what merited a formal request to visit?" he asked.

"Not just yet," Harry answered, his demeanor changing immediately to one of seriousness. "I think maybe that conversation is best had over a bottle of Old Ogden's."

"Indeed?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't question Harry any further, however, until dinner was quite finished, and they were ensconced in the dungeons, pouring the whiskey. Even then, his question was little more than a raised eyebrow.

Harry took a generous swallow before he began, more to give the impression that he needed it than because he actually did. "I took a stroll through Knockturn Alley," he began heavily. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Severus' brow furrowed.

"Did you find something worthwhile?" he asked after a moment.

There was silence. Harry pulled his wand and lit a fire silently. Severus was always absurdly pleased when he managed such things. Never mind that he was completely proficient at it – the act reminded Severus that he'd been the one to teach Harry the skill. And Harry needed the older man in the role of mentor for the purposes of this conversation.

"I wasn't looking," he admitted finally, collapsing into the chair that Draco always shunned, and looking expectantly at Severus.

The Professor, for his part, was sure that the boy was up to something. There was just a hint of I orchestration /I about the conversation thus far that didn't sit well with him. As he couldn't pinpoint the source of his discomfort, however, he made the decision to play along. He nodded knowingly, though he wasn't sure he knew just where Harry was headed.

"Fact is, I miss it a bit. The adrenaline, I mean," he clarified, when Severus continued to gaze at him, unfazed. "Life has slowed to almost a stand-still. This last year, we've faced nothing more dangerous than Avery and Wormtail, both of whom were severely wounded, and not at all inclined to actually duel. If it hadn't been for Ron going out of his head with Avery, I don't think he'd have resisted us at all. We could have frog-marched him to Azkaban in one of Molly's sweaters."

"You're telling me that you are … bored?" Severus suggested skeptically.

"Not exactly," came the quick response. Harry stood and poured himself another drink. He dribbled just a bit into the glass, with his back to Severus, and then pretended to down a large quantity, not drinking any. "I just don't feel very useful anymore," he said as he made his way back to his chair.

"Ridiculous," Severus snapped. "There are very few useful people in the world as it is, without you basking in self pity. Next you'll be telling me you wish the Dark Lord were still alive!"

"Of course not," Harry said wearily. "How could I? Those were awful times, and I know it better than anyone. But for all the worry and anger, there was excitement, too, and adventure. For all the fear, there was the potential for victory – and for – " he stopped speaking abruptly and stared into the fire for several long minutes. "- for some justification for my existence."

He met Severus' concerned eyes, and knew what he read there. "Don't worry," he continued easily. "I'm not contemplating suicide or anything. I just mean that I lived my whole life for one event, and it took place before I was even a qualified wizard. Nothing else I've got to live for – not even the things that really make me happy – will ever seem quite as significant as that. I'll always be defined by what I did as a kid, but I'll never have such a task again."

"You're one chance for glory wasn't enough?" Severus scoffed.

Harry shot him an annoyed look, certain that he was playing stupid on purpose. "I should have realized you wouldn't understand." He stood suddenly, and placed his tumbler next to the bottle of Ogden's, feeling that Severus had somehow seen through his plan and was about to make a mockery of it. He was halfway to the door when a quiet voice behind him brought him up short.

"I doubted that such a thing could affect you. Albus had me so convinced of your innate I goodness /I that I had difficulty believing you might miss the danger. Perhaps I was incorrect." Severus ground this out with difficulty. This was not a topic he had ever foreseen having to converse about, and certainly not with a Gryffindor. Yes, he'd caught himself feeling nostalgic over the dangerous times he'd weathered, but he'd never expected that Harry might feel the same.

Harry could tell that the admission had cost him something, and knew he was on even more dangerous footing now than he'd been at the beginning. "I've thought on several occasions that I was letting him down, feeling this way. I don't imagine he ever would. I can't imagine him pinning over the days of Grindelwald. Can you?"

Severus snorted in response, and stood to pour himself another drink. When he resumed his seat, Harry did likewise. "Certainly not. But the Headmaster is not all goodness and light, either. In order to defeat the Dark, you must know it, as you and I have both learned. To our detriment, I might add." He tossed back his drink and went for another, sipping it, but not slowly.

"He was in my head the whole time, you know," Harry said quietly. Severus nodded. THIS they had spoken of before. "He was telling me the most awful things. Trying to break me down. Taunting me about my weaknesses. Telling me how his Death Eaters had enjoyed hurting Hermione, how they'd laughed as they made Ron scream. But I wasn't as weak-minded as he thought. I'd learned that all he ever told were lies. Learned that from what happened to Sirius." Here he stopped. He'd failed to notice Severus' shiver in response to the Dark Lord's assertions. Hadn't seen the fleeting look of guilt that crossed the pale man's face. He'd gotten so involved in what he was saying that his plan had flown from his mind. Perhaps he'd needed this conversation more than he had realized?

"You were strong enough, as it turns out," Severus answered, "But being strong is no less admirable now, in a time of peace, than it was then. Consider yourself fortunate that your strength is no longer necessary to your survival." As he spoke the words, he turned them over in his own mind, feeling that they fit snugly into an emptiness he had been feeling for months. It was a shame that, in the days to follow, they would afford Harry less comfort than they offered to Severus himself. He would have to begin planning his response to Harry's despair when he discovered, as he surely would soon, that Ron and Hermione had indeed been captured and tortured. THEN, he was sure, Harry's strength would give out, which is precisely why the Headmaster had required them to put aside their memories at the time. Harry could not have been allowed to falter in those crucial hours of battle. But falter he would, and Severus had resigned himself a year ago to being the one to uphold him when the time came. Merlin knew Hermione wouldn't have the strength for it. Everyone would be in shock except himself, and the Headmaster – the only two people in Harry's immediate orbit who had enough skill at Occlumency to keep things from him.

Severus snorted again, upon realizing that he'd just considered himself to be in Harry's _orbit_. He covered it well. "Enough of this," he said firmly. "Go home to your wife, Potter. No doubt she would be displeased to discover that you've been risking life and limb in Knockturn Alley for thrills."

"No doubt," Harry agreed sardonically, raising and draining his glass in a silent salute. Severus did likewise, and then followed him to the door of his quarters.

Harry was half way through the Potions classroom before he turned. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"You are always welcome at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," Severus replied, smirking at the double entendre of his response. Harry only shook his head in mock exasperation and turned his feet toward home. The evening's conversation had been a success after all. The prickly Professor had come to the conclusion Harry had been guiding him towards from the beginning.


	12. The Party

**Chapter 11 – The Party**

It seemed to Hermione that the time between her long-delayed interview with the Headmaster and Harry's birthday party compressed itself from the long three months she'd been anticipating to only a matter of days. She'd seen very little of Harry or Ron in that time – Harry being preoccupied with his new title of Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Ron off playing Quidditch as usual. She glanced over the most recent letter he had sent and heaved a sigh.

It wasn't like Ron to send letters. He'd done so on occasion, back when they were still in school, and the summer breaks had seemed to go on forever. But for him to send a 'Hi, how are yeh' letter, when they had phones, and when they could Apparate seemed a bit odd. For him to send six in the last three months was downright frightening. Once again she allowed herself to wonder if he somehow knew that things weren't right with her, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Her abduction had not been common knowledge. It hadn't even been discussed in Order meetings.

The letters' topics were trivial enough – Quidditch, his newest girlfriend, Quidditch, a bloke he wanted her to date, Quidditch, today's party, Quidditch. Nothing at all to mark them as being out of the ordinary except, of course, for their existence in the first place.

The clock in her kitchen chimed, and she looked up, a bit unnerved to see that it was well after lunchtime. The letter had arrived just after breakfast, and she'd only meant to sit and read it for a moment before heading off to pick up some groceries. She shook her head violently, as though to clear a fog, although she felt as alert as ever. Dumbledore was right, she had to get this over with soon. Sitting at the kitchen table thinking about nothing for three hours was not going to get her those Masters degrees in Potions and Minerology that she wanted.

With only a few hours remaining before the gathering at the Burrow, Hermione took a deep breath, and popped out to get the ingredients she needed for all the food she'd promised Ginny she would bring.

She arrived an hour early to help set up, as promised, although she'd had to skip one of the desserts she'd originally planned to concoct, as well as a salad she'd intended to bring. The place was already humming with activity, and it seemed that no one noticed anything odd about her. Ginny turned from the stove and grinned at her just as Molly bustled back in from the living room, where Hermione could hear several deep voices talking animatedly.

"Anyone would think that we'd ASKED him to come early, he sounds so put out!" Molly exclaimed huffily. Ginny shook her head and turned back to what she was doing. 

"He just wants everyone to realize that he's gone out of his way to do something nice."

"I'd be far more inclined to think well of him for it if he didn't make out like it was such an imposition!" Molly retorted hotly. Ginny only sniggered. It was common knowledge that Molly Weasley was not at all impressed with Severus Snape. She'd defended him staunchly during the war, as Hermione herself had done, but when he'd remained the same unapproachable bat he'd always been, even when it was over, she'd written him off as a lost cause.

"I should have known whom you were discussing from the beginning," Hermione said knowingly, stashing a few bowls in the icebox and opening others for immediate consumption. The comment earned her a severe look from Ginny.

"Keep away from him if you can't be nice to him, Hermione," she warned in dire tones. "Just because Harry can get away with putting his foot in it once in a while doesn't mean you can."

"Don't I know it?" Hermione returned good-naturedly. The three women laughed.

Ron, Bill and Fleur arrived shortly after Hermione, and were immediately sent outside to deal with setting up picnic tables. Before they turned to go back out the door, however, Hermione noticed that Ron seemed to be looking at her oddly. "I'll help," she offered quickly, removing the apron she'd just donned, and following them outside.

Ron fell back to walk with her as soon as she was out the door. "How've you been, Hermione?" he asked awkwardly.

"Busy," was her honest response. "I thought these correspondence classes would be a bit of a joke, but frankly they're more work than an entire course load at Hogwarts!"

"Well, most people only do one at a time," he pointed out reasonably. They lapsed into silence until they'd caught up with Bill and Fleur, who had already positioned the tables, and were now conjuring covers. The work went quickly, with all four of them helping, and it wasn't long before Bill and Fleur were slipping away for some time apart from the family, leaving Hermione and Ron to themselves again.

Ron, never one for tact, started in on what he'd meant to say in all his letters. "Look, Hermione, I know why you don't want to date anyone, and I – "

"It isn't that I don't want to date anyone at all, Ron, it's just – "

"No, hear me out," he said, cutting her off just as she had done to him. He held up a hand, and looked so uncomfortable that she remained silent. After eight years of being best mates, she knew that anything that could make him that uncomfortable was bound to be important. She had a sinking feeling that she knew what he was on about. "The summer after our sixth year, I was taken prisoner, too," he admitted quietly. She noticed him looking furtively over her shoulder, as if afraid that Harry would appear. She swallowed hard as he continued. "It wasn't as bad for me as it could have been. Snape was assigned to help the Death Eaters who abducted me, and he told the Order, so I was rescued after less than a day.

"The Headmaster told me that it was probably better if Harry didn't know about it, and I knew he was right. Then he told me that if they didn't find YOU soon, Harry would have to know, and that I would have to be strong for his sake, if you didn't come back."

This time Ron gulped audibly, and Hermione could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Ron continued quietly. "I'm sorry I've been pressuring you about finding someone. I just thought – it might be easier for you if you had someone to comfort you when you finally have to remember. That's all."

Hermione thought back on all the times she'd hollered at him for trying to force her into a relationship with one of his friends; all the times she'd been furious with him for being so overprotective of her, and felt a wash of guilt. He'd known all along, and had only been looking out for her.

"Oh, Ron," she sighed, half-exasperated and half-grateful to know that someone, at least, would know what she was going through. She put her arms around his neck and let him just hold her tightly for several long minutes.

"But since you've been so stubborn," he added as they pulled apart, "I just wanted to let you know that I'm around, okay?" His lopsided grin lightened the mood considerably.

"Thanks. But this is something I think I need to face on my own. Harry had Voldemort to deal with, and I've got Dolohov." She smiled bravely up at him, and he shook his head as he put an arm around her shoulders and headed back to the house.

Before they reached the door, he paused. "Just remember that Dolohov is already dead. He can't ever hurt you again." He said the words with such conviction that Hermione's brow furrowed as she looked up at him again. He didn't meet her eyes. She knew in that moment exactly what had become of Dolohov.

"Thanks, Ron," she choked out. He nodded once and opened the door for her to precede him into the house. By the time the eyes of his family fell on them, they had both resumed the roles they'd played so long, and no one had any inkling of the understanding that had just passed between them.

Draco came in with Harry, as Hermione had suggested to Ginny that he should. Naturally, everyone crowded around them to congratulate Harry. Arthur and Severus, who'd been standing near the door, were the first to shake his hand. "Mr. Weasley, you remember Draco," Harry said, releasing his grip and obviously expecting Mr. Weasley to shake Draco's hand as well.

No such gesture was made, and Draco had been well enough prepared to avoid offering his hand first. Still, he scowled when the older man failed to do so. Mr. Weasley nodded shortly. "Malfoy," he acknowledged coldly by way of greeting.

"Draco," Severus said smoothly, "I'm glad you're here. There is something I've been meaning to discuss with you, if I can have your attention for a moment?" He steered Draco away from Harry and Arthur, just as he'd intended to do. It was for this reason that he'd come early, after all.

Draco graced him with a wry grin when they'd attained the farthest corner of the room. "Why did I come to this again?"

"Because, whether you're prepared to admit it or not, you enjoy being around Harry Potter," Severus answered sourly. Defending his early arrival to Arthur had not put him in a good mood, nor had Arthur's curt manner with Draco. The boy's grin abruptly became another scowl, and he snorted derisively, but said nothing further. In silence, they watched everyone greet a _properly surprised_ Harry.

Hermione, Ginny, and Molly came out of the kitchen upon hearing their arrival. After hugging Harry, and wishing him, "Happy Birthday," Hermione approached Draco and Severus. She nodded to the latter, but shook hands with Draco and welcomed him as warmly as she could. This was going to be a tough evening for him, and it'd been good of him to come for Harry's sake.

Draco, for his part, appreciated the sentiment, but wondered at the hostility she obviously felt for his Godfather. He was clever enough not to mention it until George had drawn her away. After giving Draco a look full of evil intent, he'd grasped Hermione's elbow, chattering about some new invention or other whilst dragging her back into the kitchen. The two Slytherins were left looking at the party from the sidelines once more. Draco decided, after a covert glance at Severus' stormy face, that now was not the time to ask about Hermione after all.

By this time, Severus was also wondering why he'd come. Obviously Hermione was still unhappy with his behavior half a year previous. He'd once thought that only Slytherins could hold a grudge so long.

Another few minutes passed. Around them the Weasleys talked and laughed. Red heads disappeared and reappeared from the kitchen. At one point Percy offered them each something to drink, however Severus declined for them both, having seen Fred handing Percy the tray. Whatever was in those drinks was probably not fit for consumption. The disappointed look on Fred's face as Percy retreated with the full glasses certainly leant credence to his deduction.

Severus came to an abrupt decision and excused himself from Draco. He strode toward the kitchen, and Ginny and Harry stepped swiftly out of his way as he did so. Everyone's eyes followed him, particularly Draco's. He could hardly believe he'd been left alone in this viper pit. He knew it was only a matter of time before the trouble began, and he wasn't wrong. Fred started towards him as soon as Severus was out of sight.

"Miss Granger, might I have a word?"

Hermione looked up from the Arithmancy equation George was questioning her about with an open face that at once took on a closed expression.

"Which word did you have in mind? Idiot, or girl?" she asked scathingly. George sniggered. Obviously he'd heard the story.

His humor was short-lived, however, as Severus' face darkened dangerously. "Er – I'll just get with you about these some other time, then, alright? We're not planning to launch the new products until September, after all," he said quickly, gathering his papers and practically running from the kitchen.

Fleur, standing at the stove idly stirring a thick chocolate something, kept her back to them, and said nothing. Severus spared her a glance, wishing she'd leave, but then decided it didn't matter. Word of his apology would surely be heard far and wide within hours.

"The word on my mind just now is contrition," he said carefully, seating himself in the chair across from Hermione. He got a raised eyebrow for his trouble, and he forced himself not to grit his teeth as he continued. "It seems I _was_ mildly inebriated as I wrote the ingredient list for our experiment, and you were correct to blame me for the explosion. Naturally, I was mortified, and took my anger out on you. I apologize."

By the time he'd finished, Hermione had a bemused expression on her face. It was, by far, the most sterile apology she'd ever received. Yet it couldn't be anything but sincere. Severus was not the sort to bother with an insincere apology. She only considered for a moment.

"I will accept your apology on one condition." She felt partially vindicated by the narrowing of Severus' eyes, and graced him with a half smile. "In the future when we argue, you will continue to call me Hermione. Not Miss Granger, and certainly not 'idiot girl.' If you can agree to that, then I can accept your apology."

"I find that equitable," Severus responded formally, standing. Hermione smiled properly. The man was certainly not one for overt emotion. Before they had a chance to shake on it, however, there was a commotion from the other room.

Hermione made it out of the kitchen first, as Severus was frozen. He told himself later that it was his surprise at the sudden noise rather than his preoccupation with the expression on Hermione's face.

From the looks of the room, several things had happened at once. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore had arrived, providing the perfect distraction for Fred, who, when joined by George, had taken the opportunity to attempt to humiliate Draco.

Unfortunately for them, Harry was not distracted. Fred and George were rolling on the floor: Fred laughing even more hysterically than was normal due to an enthusiastically cast tickling charm; and George trying desperately to stand amidst all the fleshy tentacles he had suddenly sprouted. Even Arthur was laughing as Harry and Draco put their wands away and exchanged a sheepish grin.

Ginny was torn between laughing at Harry's tickling curse, which to her eyes appeared to have been cast in the most embarrassing place possible (something she intended to tease Fred about later), and annoyance with Draco over George's tentacles, which seemed to have a mind of their own. In the end she just rolled her eyes, and began attempting counter-curses.

She started with Fred, because she knew the fix for tickling. But when she turned to George, Draco spoke up. "No, wait, don't try – "

But it was too late. She'd already attempted to end the incantation with the usual counter-curse. George's tentacles sprouted suction cups and turned florescent orange. At this, Hermione joined in the laughter, and behind her, she thought she heard Severus snort amusedly as well.

Ginny turned helplessly towards Draco, who took pity on her, and spoke the three-part counter curse. A mumbled, "Thanks," was her only response as she turned back to George and helped him to his feet. The laughter had died down now, and the twins looked at one another, then at their mother. Molly Weasley's face had bypassed red and was nearing 'explode,' if, indeed, there is such a color.

In that uncanny way they had, the twins started talking at the same time. Everyone expected apologies to Molly, but instead they addressed themselves animatedly to Draco.

"That was WICKED!" Fred exclaimed, "Do you think maybe you could –"

"-teach us that spell? I'd be perfect for our new beach-theme line!" George finished, offering his hand to Draco for the first time.

Confused, Draco shook his hand. He cast a glance at Harry, who was shaking his head and laughing. It didn't escape his notice that everyone was looking relieved. "Yeah, alright," Draco said slowly. Before he'd finished agreeing, George was pulling him toward the kitchen, scooping up his papers from the floor as he went.

An odd silence remained in the room when Fred, George, and Draco had left. Severus caught Arthur's eye across the room and smirked, plainly daring him to say something unflattering about Draco. He thought the point had very clearly been made that Draco was not Lucius, who would surely have done some real damage and called it self-defense. It seemed Arthur agreed, as he lowered his head.

Within moments, Molly had cajoled everyone out the front door and around to the garden, where Fleur and Bill had begun filling the picnic tables with food. Dinner was a jovial affair, with the twins entertaining Draco, who was still a bit dumbfounded at his newfound popularity. 

Hermione found herself seated between Harry and Severus. Naturally Harry was preoccupied with his wife, and so here she was discussing various potion ingredients with Severus once again. She was impressed that he'd had fairly good success with the trials he'd been working on in January, once the correct quantities were used. No request was made for her assistance, however, for which she was endlessly grateful.

Severus, who'd been intending to sit next to Arthur to gloat over Draco's success with the twins, found himself instead practically forced into a chair between Hermione and Molly. As he had no interest in Molly, and the sentiment was mutual, he directed his attention to Hermione. She spoke of the difficulties of her correspondence courses, to which he replied, very sensibly he thought, that most people only attempted one field of study at a time.

Hermione laughed at that. Neither she nor Severus noticed that Ron, who was sitting across from Ginny, had narrowed his eyes angrily. Harry, however, noticed at once, as he'd been keeping one ear on the conversation behind his head since the very beginning. Secretly he thought it was going quite well, but he knew that one outburst from Ron, especially so far ahead of schedule, would put him back months. And so he deftly headed him off by offering a 30 galleon bet against his Quidditch team. Ron was quite easily distracted, and the talk turned to Quidditch. Hermione and Severus' conversation was lost in the loud betting, and Ron didn't have a spare moment to think about it again until long after.

As dinner concluded, Hermione excused herself to help Molly clear up. She privately found after dinner chores fairly entertaining, now that she could use magic to accomplish them. By the time the kitchen was clean, and she came back outside, Professor Dumbledore, Severus, and Draco had gone. However, Professor McGonagall was looking at her shrewdly, and she had a feeling that she knew exactly why.

Sure enough, as soon as Harry was out of earshot, the brisk Scot said her piece. "The Headmaster has instructed me to bring you back to Hogwarts tonight, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked over to Ron for some support. "It's for the best," he added quietly. "I'll come see you as soon as you like. Just owl me anytime." His eyes were wide and sad, and it made Hermione feel sad as well. She looked away. The whole ordeal would be difficult enough without adding Ron's regrets to her own.

"I'd like to stop at the flat and get some clothes. I don't want to wear hospital gowns the whole time I'm there, as I'm not really ill," she said imploringly.

Professor McGonagall softened. "Of course, dear. Come along, and we'll get you all packed up." At that, Hermione stifled a snort. As if she was a first year, homesick over her parents and demanding to return to them! She rolled her eyes in Ron's general direction as she trotted passed him to shout her goodbyes into the house. Hugs were shared all around before she rejoined the Transfiguration Professor in the garden. Ron hugged her last.

"I'll talk to Harry," he offered quietly. "It'll soften the blow before your letter comes," he explained. Hermione nodded her acquiescence, though she tended to think it would be easier for Harry to hear it from her. Still, it was thoughtful of Ron to offer, and it would save her the trouble of re-living it all a THIRD time when the boys came to visit. She followed McGonagall without another word. It was time to face the music.


	13. In Remembrance

**Chapter 12 - In Remembrance**

Hermione was thankful to arrive back at Hogwarts, a shrunken bag in the pocket of her robes, without having to endure a lecture from Professor McGonagall. It was clear that the older woman was less than pleased with her, and Hermione assumed she'd been told of her continued procrastination. It didn't feel very good to know that her one-time Head of House was disappointed in her, but she didn't have the emotional capacity to think on it. Instead, she gazed around her at the familiar portraits as they made their way silently to the Hospital Ward.

Madam Pomfrey was as busy as usual, and a neat cot had been made up for her apart from the others, and with a particularly heavy curtain, as she would be staying more than just a day. She felt a bit patronized as the motherly woman fussed her into her nightclothes, and into bed. "The Headmaster expects you to get lots of rest tonight, Miss Granger, as tomorrow is sure to be a trying day for you."

"Yes, Ma'am," she replied meekly. She was a little dumbfounded about the whole thing. She'd been expecting to have her memory reinstated immediately, since they'd taken the trouble to shepherd her here early. But it occurred to her finally that Dumbledore probably thought she'd bolt, so he'd asked McGonagall to ambush her at Harry's party. She found herself more than a little annoyed at his tactics, but didn't voice it. Instead, she lay quietly in bed until the lights were doused, and tried futilely to fall asleep.

By the time the sunlight was creeping across the lawn outside, Hermione, with all of five hours of rest behind her, was fully awake. Madam Pomfrey, who always seemed to I know /I these things, allowed her time to dress before bringing a breakfast tray. Her cheerful chatter was distracting at best, but Hermione tried to be polite in spite of her nervousness. She finished her food, and was just draining the last of her pumpkin juice when Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape entered the ward, looking grim. Hermione took a deep breath and set her tray aside.

"Well, Miss Granger, I hope you slept well," the Headmaster began. Hermione thought he looked rather shifty – his eyes were dull and his face somber. She had rarely seen him that way. She glanced quickly from the Pensieve he was carrying to the other Professors, whose faces she could not read so easily. Severus nodded at her, and she smiled a slight smile in return. This seemed to please Dumbledore, as he chose that moment to continue. He placed the bowl on her table, banishing her tray back to the kitchens as he did so.

"I have brought the memory with me. You will, naturally, not recall the procedure for reinstating it, as that was explained to you before it was removed. I shall explain again." There was a brief pause, and Hermione kept her eyes firmly averted from the Pensieve, focusing instead on the Headmaster's bushy gray eyebrows.

"Your memory was not removed the way short memories generally are, with an unspoken incantation and simple wand movement. To remove it in that way would only allow it to be stored for a short time. As we didn't know how long the war might progress, and due to the sheer volume of information the memory contained, a more permanent measure was required. You entered the Pensieve alone, and, using the incantation I taught you, etched the memory into the interior of the bowl. If you look into it now, you can see the etchings."

When Hermione made no move to look toward the bowl, Dumbledore continued, sounding rather more weary than before. "To reclaim the memory, you will need, once again, to enter the Pensieve alone. It was for this purpose that the device was originally created. Upon your entrance, the spell will reverse itself automatically, as it was designed to do. You will only be in there a brief moment before the Pensieve will eject you and destroy itself, having fulfilled its intended purpose. Do you understand?"

At his final question, Hermione's eyes snapped downward a tad, and met his own. What a ridiculous question! Was she two years old? Of COURSE she understood. But she reigned in her annoyance. The old man was only trying to help.

"I understand," she replied. Professor McGonagall placed the bowl in her lap, and Hermione cast a last glance at each of them. She resisted the odd urge to say goodbye. She'd be back out of the thing in only an instant, after all. But – but she wouldn't be the same Hermione that was going INTO it. She shook her head and smiled vaguely at her own folly. "Here goes," she whispered. And she bent over the bowl.

To the eyes of those around her, nothing appeared to change for an instant. Then her head flew back into the pillows, and the bowl rose from her unresisting hands. It spun in the air thrice before exploding in a shower of blue sparks. Hermione had not moved, and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

As the pillows had been arranged to allow her to sit against them, the Professors could see her face clearly. She was grimacing, more in anticipation than due to any pain.

Quietly, Professor Dumbledore began to explain. "Over the next four hours, you will relive the eight days you spent as a captive, as well as the two days before your memory was removed. It might be even more traumatic than the initial experience, both because of the fast pace, as well as an alarming feeling of déjà vu." He stopped there, as it didn't appear that she was listening. Madam Pomfrey, who'd appeared when the Pensieve exploded, bustled past him to the bed and did a few quick tests.

"She's awake, Albus," she assured him, before moving nervously away again, back to her office to finish the list of supplies she needed for the upcoming school year. This was not the sort of ailment with which she had any experience.

Fifteen minutes passed, during which Hermione did not move. Her eyes remained closed, and her face scrunched in anticipation of pain. Severus pulled up a chair for himself and one for McGonagall as well. The Headmaster, upon seeing that he was the only one still standing, conjured his own.

All three were startled when Hermione grunted abruptly and a dark, evil looking bruise began to appear over the left side of her jaw. Then she whimpered and brought her knees up a moment later, as though a blow to the stomach had caused her to double up. Dumbledore exchanged a concerned glance with his deputy Headmistress before calling for Madam Pomfrey, who came running.

However, long before the portly woman had even started out from behind her desk, Severus was on his feet and beside the bed. He took Hermione's face in his hand roughly. His thumb dug into the newly developing bruise, and Professor McGonagall snapped, "Severus, what are you doing!"

"Open your eyes, Hermione," he demanded, purposely using the dangerous classroom voice he had always saved for Neville Longbottom. Her eyes popped open at once.

"Your mind is recreating your injuries as if you are truly reliving the experience. You cannot allow it. Find something in this room to focus on." His insistent voice caused her to look up at him. She nodded briefly in understanding, then pushed herself further up on the bed as he released her. Striding past his astounded colleagues, he resumed his seat. "Can you still see the room, Hermione?" he asked, his voice somewhat less harsh.

"Yes," she whispered. "Barely. But Avery is gone now. He …"

"It's alright. When he leaves you alone, you can talk to us," Madam Pomfrey assured her. Severus glared at her briefly, and she realized that she'd cut off whatever Hermione had been about to say. He wanted to drag her by her elbow back into her office and explain to her that NO, it was NOT I alright /I , but he didn't want to leave Hermione in case something else happened. It was only a moment before something did.

Her features relaxed, and she leaned back into the bed, this time keeping her eyes open. But her legs unfolded, and she looked for all the world as if she was bored and contemplating the ceiling. Severus allowed himself to relax as well.

In truth, she was neither bored nor contemplative. A half an hour had passed, and she'd just remembered most of her first day in captivity, a day which had been far more trying than she'd led the others to believe. She knew what she'd told Dumbledore about her experiences, because he had told it back to her after her memory had been removed. He hadn't mentioned even the half of it. Clearly she had kept a great deal from him.

_After Avery's brutal self-introduction, Hermione had curled herself into a small ball. She'd been given no bedding, so she was on the tile floor, bleeding and trying not to cry. It was then that the other man had come in._

_He'd not bothered to knock, but had walked through the door as if sure of his welcome. She had watched through half-closed eyes as he set several objects on the floor and transfigured them into a small cot, a blanket, and a pillow, respectively._

_Her quick mind wondered if the door had been locked behind him, but just as quickly she admitted to herself that she couldn't make a break for it. She didn't much care that her clothes were gone, but she wasn't sure she could make her legs move so soon after….that._

_When the man turned toward her, she gasped. "Dolohov," she spat angrily, recognizing his bright hazel eyes. He seemed startled._

_"And how, exactly, do you know my name?" he asked. She noticed that his voice was more surprised than angry, but the knowledge didn't change her tone._

_"I heard your mates calling to you in the Department of Mysteries. The Prophet didn't bother reporting that you'd escaped from Azkaban." She filled her voice with all the venom she could muster, which was quite a lot, after what she'd just been through._

_He chose to ignore her malicious words. Obviously she remembered him just fine. Another obstacle to overcome. He had known it wouldn't be easy. "I see you've met Avery. Not very friendly, that one. Just once, I wish they'd let me try first," he lamented, his eyes traveling the length of her. He paused. "Well, let's get you cleaned up."_

_"Don't touch me!" Hermione exclaimed, trying to scoot away from him across the floor, while still keeping her arms crossed in front of her chest._

_"Would you prefer to continue bleeding? Or - I can stop it from here, if you'd rather." His offer was made quietly._

_Hermione looked at him appraisingly. "Why are you offering to help me?"_

_There was a moment's hesitation in the man's eyes then. Quickly, he decided to do as Lucius had instructed, against his better judgement. "I'm not going to insult your renowned intelligence. I'm going to help you because that is my part in this comedy of horrors. What is it you Mud—ggles like to say? We're playing 'Good Cop, Bad Cop,' and I am the Good Cop. And you're going to let me help you because I have a wand, and you don't really have any choice."_

_Hermione considered this for all of three seconds. "Right. Well, then do whatever you're going to do and get out."_

_It wasn't long before her bruises were healing, and her legs felt a bit stronger. She stood as he lowered his wand. They looked at each other in silence. Then Hermione spoke again. "I want to sit on the bed. Go over there." She pointed across the room, to the door. He went, slowly, and at the same pace she shuffled toward the bed. As she lowered herself gingerly onto it, Dolohov pocketed his wand. "I don't suppose your generosity extends to clothing?" she inquired haughtily, pulling the blanket up over herself._

_If he could tell that it was a cover for her approaching hysteria, he didn't show it. "Sadly, no. I've specific orders on that. Is there anything else you might like?"_

_"A waste bin," Hermione answered immediately. He wordlessly conjured it next to her bed. "How about a wand to clean it out with after I vomit?" she could hear her voice starting to break, and feel the bile rising in her throat, but she didn't want to show any weakness before the enemy. Looking up, she realized that it didn't matter. He was already gone. She had just enough time to try the locked door before she had to dash back to the bed, retching violently._

* * *

The Professors took it in shift to sit with Hermione throughout the four allotted hours. Severus had been volunteered for the first watch, as it was he who'd headed off her imagination before it could physically damage her as the initial experience had done. He watched carefully as her features vacillated between abject terror, and something like tenderness.

_Once again Avery had left her, this time held to the wall obscenely by invisible bonds. It was the third day of her captivity, and her resolve was weakening. She had not yet shed tears, but she could feel them, now, stinging her eyes. She concentrated on that, rather than the trickle of blood down her right leg._

_She was impatiently counting her breaths. Two thousand three, four, five. Two thousand six. The door opened, and Dolohov appeared, with what she told herself was a false look of sympathy. It didn't matter, though. She had finally reached the point where she would take whatever sympathy she could get._

_He released her from the wall with a flick of his wand, and caught her as her knees buckled. It was the first time he'd dared touch her, but she didn't protest. She couldn't have if she'd wanted to, because her jaw was broken, and she didn't want to risk moving it until he healed it. She knew he would, and she wasn't disappointed._

_He massaged some kind of ointment into her wrists, which immediately stopped aching. It occurred to her that he must have known she'd give him this much liberty today, or he wouldn't have the damned ointment. But it didn't matter. She needed a friend, even an untrue one. It wasn't as if she was going to tell him anything. And furthermore he'd never asked._

_At this thought, she sobbed unexpectedly. Dolohov looked up at her, apparently worried. That just made her begin to cry in earnest. She searched his face for any sign of a victorious smirk, but found none. He didn't speak, but she did. "He didn't even question me this time!" Her agonized whisper seemed to mobilize him. He perched himself on the bed, pulling her down with him._

_It didn't even occur to her to be frightened as he wrapped his arms around her. He let her cry against his chest for quite some time. Finally he spoke, as gently as he could. "What does he usually ask you?"_

_Warning bells went off in Hermione's head. This was forbidden ground. To cover, she cried harder. It wasn't as if she had to pretend, or fake it, after all. No one had more reason to cry than she did._

_She cried herself to sleep and Dolohov slipped out of the room quietly to have a word with Avery. If he was TOO harsh with the girl, neither of them would get any information from her at all._

* * *

Severus stood at the end of his hour with Hermione. Professor McGonagall would be arriving any moment. He walked to the side of Hermione's bed and turned her head to face him. Her eyes were still open. He hadn't even needed to remind her.

"Hermione, can you hear me?" She blinked, almost as though she was shifting her vision between the world unfolding before her mind, and the one her eyes were actually viewing.

"Yes," she gritted. A wave of nausea passed over her. He didn't dare ask, from the expression on her face, and the way her hands were clutching the bed sheets, what she was currently experiencing. "I will be leaving, and Professor McGonagall will be arriving momentarily. Someone will always be with you. You won't be left alone."

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded.

"Keep your eyes open," he snapped. She complied, but not before a tear squeezed out from under an eyelid.

A hand on his shoulder told him that Minerva had arrived. He left without another word, and Hermione focused again on the line where the wall met the ceiling. Her new guardian, instructed to silence by the Headmaster, seated herself to begin one of the longest hours she would ever spend.


	14. Torment

_Hermione awoke alone on the fourth morning of her captivity. She'd slept remarkably well, and in spite of everything that had happened, she felt fairly good about how the previous day had gone. After all, she'd deflected the first round of questioning from the most dangerous of her interrogators, and still had all her wounds healed. It had been a good trade._

_She took her bearings silently. The room was empty. Avery wasn't lurking in any of the corners, waiting to pounce on her. Not that he seemed like the type to let her sleep in. She shuddered at the thought, and continued to do so, unconsciously pulling the blanket more tightly around herself. She sat up, murmuring a silencing charm that was intended to keep the bed from creaking. As it did so anyway, she remembered that her wand was long gone. Predictably, the deadbolt on her door turned not long afterward._

_Still shaking, Hermione braced herself for Avery. But for once, he was NOT the first person through the door for the day. Her quick mind concluded immediately that this was bad. If Avery wasn't first, he was last. If he was last, she would be lucky not to bleed to death in the night. Still, when Dolohov smiled at her, placing 2 apples on the bed beside her as though he was offering her rubies, she couldn't help but smile back just a little._

_She hadn't been aware of just how weak she had become with hunger until she realized that she was devouring the first apple indiscreetly. The second one was already in her other hand, as though she was afraid someone would take it from her. It was only then that her mind slowed its unceasing situation analysis to realize that she had not seen food in days – only water. And not much of it, at that. She had been so caught up in the need to keep her silence, and be strong through the physical struggles that she hadn't noticed her hunger._

_Now, however, as she consumed the first apple core, not noticing how the stem scratched her throat on the way down, it seemed as though years had passed since her last meal. Dimly, it occurred to her that they'd noticed that the hunger wasn't affecting her, and granted her this small amount of food to make her AWARE of the hunger that was certain to return with a vengeance later today. She couldn't make herself care, and she bit into the next fruit with relish._

_Dolohov watched her eat in silence, his features carefully schooled into something like kindness. His thoughts, however, were nothing of the sort. The hunger would bother her much more now than it had previously, if, indeed, it had bothered her at all. He had had his doubts, and when he'd mentioned them to Lucius, the demented genius had come up with this. Just enough food to whet her appetite. By this time tomorrow, she'd be convinced that they were starving her to death._

_What little food he could 'sneak' to her would be vastly more appreciated. He would have his answers yet._

* * *

Professor McGonagall continued to watch her star student in silence, though it bothered her to do so. At one point, early in the hour, Hermione had smiled briefly. Following that, however, there had been only tears and a continual grimace of pain. She thought little of it. Perhaps she had managed to have a good dream or two, if the bastards had let her sleep at all.

When the Headmaster arrived for his shift, having taken the last two hours to carefully consider his post-remembrance dealings with Hermione, he found Severus pacing outside the hospital wing door. He raised a bushy eyebrow in question, but received no answer. This was of no moment to him, and he opened the door and indicated that Severus should precede him into the room, which the younger man did.

Professor McGonagall looked up at their arrival, and stood. "She's in a great deal of pain, Albus," she whispered. "Isn't there anything we can do? A way to give her a break from it for a while?"

Both men shook their heads in response. "No, Minerva. Once the spell has been reversed, there is no stopping it. She will have to relive the remaining 6 days, but only four of them were spent with the Death Eaters. The final two she was back safe with us. It is over by more than half, now."

While his colleagues addressed one another, Severus turned his eyes to Hermione, who, he was startled to discover, was looking at them all with something akin to loathing. Instantly he realized why: they'd been speaking about her as if she wasn't present. He was thankful that he'd remained silent thus far.

As they continued their admittedly rude conversation, he went to stand beside her bed. "Are you alone?" he asked, upon finding that her face wasn't scrunched into a mask of pain. She nodded shortly in response, but looked away and wouldn't meet his eyes. He found this odd, but didn't comment. "They are only concerned for your well being," he offered rather weakly.

"Too little too late," she whispered in response, sparing him a brief glance before focusing once again on a point near the ceiling. He imagined the comment must have been at least partially in response to something she was remembering, as her hands immediately fisted again. After a moment, a small drop of blood soaked into the sheet under her right hand. She was cutting her palms with her own nails. Without a thought, he took her hand in his own and forced it open, allowing her to squeeze his fingers instead. He regretted it at once, as her grip was rather stronger than he'd expected.

He heard Minerva take her leave, and found the Headmaster's eyes, nodding slightly toward the other side of the bed. Albus quickly took up a similar position.

After several moments of gazing into Hermione's pain-filled face, Albus looked across the bed at his Potions Master. "I would have done anything to spare her this," he said quietly. "I researched – "

"She is neither dead nor absent, Albus," Severus answered curtly. "If you must apologize, apologize to her, not to me."

At this moment, Hermione gasped loudly, and the two men turned their attention back to her, thinking that something particularly horrible must have happened in her mind. But her surprised gasp had not been the result of the memory. Even in the midst of one of the most awful experiences of her life, Hermione was aware of the exchange that had just taken place.

For an instant, she met Severus' eyes, and released and squeezed his hand. It was as close as she could get to thanking him. It was hard to force yourself to talk when half your mind was convinced that there was something in your mouth.

For his part, Severus could only see anguish in her eyes. The glance seemed, to him, to hold nothing but accusation. Why had he not rescued her before she'd had to endure this hell? Where had he been? Helping WEASLEY? He let go her hand abruptly, and nodded once to Albus. Hermione never saw him leave, as her eyes were, once again, focused on the unassuming juncture at which the wall met the ceiling.

Half an hour later, Albus was sitting in a conjured chair watching intently as Hermione continued to do nothing at all. The least flutter of her eyes made him jumpy. Part of the reason he was supervising this folly was to keep her from closing them, after all. At least until they knew her memories had progressed into the safety of her rescue.

He shook his head. One couldn't even call it a rescue, actually. They'd been looking everywhere for her, of course. All of the other functions of the Order of the Phoenix had been put on hold. Remus had been called back from his work among the werewolves, Hagrid had been summoned from the north. She was nowhere to be found. Until she had Apparated, naked and bloody, into the most unlikely place. What had come to pass in the time between her abduction and her reappearance in Quality Quidditch Supplies of Diagon Alley, however, was an utter mystery to him. He was well aware that he had not gotten the full story that day.

* * *

_It had been days since Dolohov had come, though how many, she wasn't really sure. She WAS certain she had at least three broken ribs. And that her hair was irreparably matted. Avery loved her hair, she knew, because it gave him more control. If she'd had any way to rid herself of it, she would have done so. She'd contented herself with tying it into a huge knot, and then another, so that it stayed high on her head, and close to her aching scalp. She could only hope that he would find it less useful to him when he returned._

_She'd stopped taking inventory of her bruises. It hurt too much to turn at the waist to see his handprints on her buttocks. It hurt too much to do much of anything. She was lying quietly on the cot when the door opened. Her throat was raw from screaming and vomiting, and she greeted Dolohov only with silence._

_He asked for nothing better as he began to heal her. When her face was no longer bruised, he pulled the blanket away from her. She was lying on her back, but didn't resist as he exposed her._

_Hermione observed his clinical detachment from the corner of her eye, but did not turn her head to him. Even when he finished with all that he could see, and covered her once again with the blanket, she made no move to acknowledge him._

"_I was called away. I tried to argue, but – it does no good to argue with the Dark Lord."_

"_Voldemort?" Hermione asked. Predictably, Dolohov flinched. She looked at him then, hoping to see anger in his eyes. She was baiting him, trying to make him give up the game. 'Good Cop,' indeed. Did he honestly think he was fooling her?_

"_Yes. I – "_

_She sat up abruptly and fixed him with such a stare that he fell silent. She didn't flatter herself that it was anything but a calculated maneuver on his part. "You knew every spell I would require. Tell me, did they train you to be a healer in Azkaban? You healed my raw throat. That spell is so archaic that most people would RATHER brew the necessary potion than learn the wand movement. And the internal bleeding? I know one of those ribs punctured a lung, as I've been spitting up blood and breathing shallowly all afternoon." She paused for breath, and took a minute to be impressed that he didn't look uncomfortable yet._

"_Should I assume it's just a coincidence that you knew that too?" she accused quietly. "Do you like to watch, you despicable – "_

"_I say what they tell me to say, Hermione!" he said quickly, whispering and looking fearfully over his shoulder at the blank wall, as if to indicate that she was, indeed being watched. "Lucius filled me in, and it took me hours to learn that damned wand movement or I would have been here sooner!" He calibrated his voice to sound as though it pained him to leave her hurting so long. As though he'd HURRIED to help her._

_Hermione didn't reply. After a moment, and after carefully placing his back to the wall he'd just hinted was not opaque, he pulled several tiny, hard boiled eggs from his shirt pocket and enlarged them to their normal size. He withheld them only long enough to de-shell them by magic, then handed them to Hermione, who made no attempt to hide her atrocious eating habits from whomever might be watching. She didn't even see his masterfully executed glance of fake concern, as if to imply that he was going to be in trouble._

_Unknowingly, she responded to the act anyway. "You can't have it both ways – either you're all watching everything I do, and know just what to say and do to get to me – or you're not, and you are able to sneak food to me. You're not sneaking me anything. If they tell you what to say, then they tell you what to feed me. Whatever happened to not insulting my intelligence?" She said all of this with food in her mouth, however, unlike Ron, she didn't lose a morsel of it._

_Still kneeling on the hard floor beside the bed, Dolohov made a quick decision. They'd wanted him to wait another day, but he couldn't. Her cynicism was growing and her trust lessening by the hour. They would never agree to call off Avery, and so he had to make the move now if he wanted to get the chance. And he wanted the chance._

"_I apologize. I can only do what they tell me, Hermione," he said wearily, lifting himself from his knees with a difficulty he didn't have to affect. "When I don't – " He didn't finish, but instead seated himself on the bed beside her. There was a pause. "The wall is solid. They thought about trying to watch you by magic, but there was too great a risk that you'd find a way to make use of anything that compromised the structural integrity of the room. You might not believe it, but half of this compound is scared to death of you." The implication that the place was crawling with Death Eaters was not lost on Hermione._

_She had moved distrustfully away from him when he sat, but now turned her knees toward him and looked at him long and hard. The overwhelming urge to giggle hysterically was fought and beat, but only just. They were afraid of I her /I ? Then Harry was going to trounce them._

"_Look, I need to know if you can tell me anything that might help me convince them to let you go. If I could just – "_

"_Don't be stupid. The minute I spill it I'm toast, and I know it. I don't want to talk to you anymore," Hermione stated roughly. She wanted desperately to stand from the bed and go to the opposite side of the room, but she couldn't, as he was sitting on her only form of modesty. She took a second to think it curious that she had any left._

_Dolohov made no move to leave, as she had hoped he would. Lucius had suggested that he might get a better reaction if he let her stew in silence once in a while instead of always trying to bait the answers from her. In this instance it worked admirably._

"_If you really wanted to help me, you'd give me your wand and take your lumps for it like a man." She turned her back to him, and sat in silence a while longer._

"_I don't want to die," he whispered. In another instant, he was kneeling on the floor before her again. "You are strength incarnate, but I'm the same coward I've always been, Hermione. I took the bloody mark when I was still in school because I was too afraid of what they'd do to me – to my family – if I didn't. And I say what they tell me and act how they tell me because I'm still afraid."_

_Hermione didn't look at him until she felt his hand through the blanket, caressing her knee. "But if they could see me right now, I'd be good as dead," he whispered. This time there was no fearful glance over his shoulder to try and fool her. There was no time to analyze the truth of what he'd said, either, before he was stretching up a hand to her face._

_His touch was so gentle. When he had healed her, so many times in the last few days, he'd always been professional about it. No lingering touches. Not even a double take as his eyes traveled over her breasts. The gentle pressure on her cheek had her leaning down to kiss him before it had even occurred to her that something was odd about it all.

* * *

_

Hermione lay still in the hospital ward, hardly daring to believe what her memory was telling her. Even as she experienced it – making love for the first time – she couldn't believe she'd done such a thing. From the vantage point of more than a year later, knowing all of what she now knew, she was mortified at her behavior. She'd let that beast touch her, begged him to, at the end, even.

She held her body rigid in the bed even as she remembered her damnable pliability – they way their bodies had molded together. Her face flushed with shame so deep it hurt and, for the first time since Severus had forbade it, she closed her eyes.

Albus noticed at once, and jumped from his seat. Nothing he could say, however, seemed to bring any response. Her eyes remained resolutely closed. No harm seemed to have come to her yet, but he continued trying to get her attention, finally shouting, "MISS GRANGER!" in his best disciplinarian voice.

In the hallway, Severus heard the commotion. Three seconds passed before he determined that whatever was wrong was more important than the Headmaster discovering that he had been pacing the hallway again, and he entered the ward for the third time that day. He reasoned that it was nearly his turn to take up the vigil anyway.

As he strode into the room, he heard Albus mutter, "Oh, thank Merlin," and he pushed the curtain aside to see that Hermione's eyes were open once again. They appeared unfocused, however a quick check with his wand revealed no new bruises.

Hermione's eyes had flown open of their own accord, due to a startling discovery in her memory. She'd been so enjoying Dolohov's _attentions_ that she'd stretched her arms luxuriously up under her pillow and had come across something completely unexpected. A wand.

* * *

_Even as she moaned incoherently in pleasure, she was able to comprehend what she'd found. In the same moment she realized that her cowardly paramour could not have put it there. She could see his wand sticking out of the pocket of his trousers, which he'd carefully placed near the foot of the cot, so that he was always between her and his wand._

_He didn't know she had a wand. And no matter how good he made her feel, she wasn't going to give herself away. She sighed contentedly and stretched her arms further above her head, carefully placing the wand on the little metal ledge that supported the pitiful mattress of her cot. She'd made her move not a moment too soon, as Dolohov lifted his head less than a second later._

"_I want to show you how it should be," he whispered in what he must have thought was a seductive voice. Maybe two moments before she would have thought that it was. After finding the wand, however, it felt like she'd walked out of a dense fog and into the sunlight. She looked at him through hooded eyes, and squirmed down the bed, to be sure that he couldn't see the wand from the vantage point he was about to assume._

"_Please," she whimpered. Part of her wanted this – the contact of someone who wasn't going to hurt her. Part of her was utterly revolted, but resigned to what she saw as whoring herself in exchange for her life. It wasn't hard to deceive him._

_She braced herself as he moved over her, and didn't have to pretend to be afraid as he took what he wanted from her. But he was gentle. The whole experience was so different from anything else that had happened to her in this place that she couldn't help but give in to it a little._

_Dolohov was thrilled. Not only was he going to get all the information from her when this was over, he was going to do it without Avery. Not only was he going to have his satisfaction with the little tart, he was going to be rewarded by the Dark Lord as well. Perhaps she would be his reward? Perhaps he would be permitted to keep her? It was with this thought that he found his satisfaction, vaguely pleased that he'd managed to provide for her need at the same time. She would, thus, continue to trust him. In the haze that would follow, he intended to lay the groundwork for the questions he would ask her tomorrow._

_He rolled from her, and lay at her side, wrapping a possessive arm around her and placing a kiss on her temple. She was breathing heavily with her eyes still closed, and he allowed himself a victorious smirk. Tomorrow, after he had used her far worse than Avery had yet done, when she was completely broken as the only person she trusted turned on her –THEN he would have his answers. And his reward._


	15. FallOut

**Chapter 14 – Fall Out**

Severus watched Hermione as carefully as Albus had done. He knew the time of her escape must be near. It would be a simple matter, following that, of remembering her time in the hospital wing, and the decision to remove the memory. Minerva, Albus, and Poppy were seated around him, and he fully intended to make a get-away as soon as he was sure that the worst was over. He knew better than anyone what she'd lived through, and he didn't believe for a minute that she would be pleased to find a Death Eater in the room with her when she was fully coherent again.

* * *

_Dolohov had just begun a quiet conversation with the woman he now considered to be his personal pet Mudblood when a horrendous crash was heard outside the room. As that was the first noise from beyond the door that Hermione had ever heard, she couldn't help but look a bit shocked._

_Dolohov, his back to the door, rolled over and began to sit up. But the door flew open before he could stand, and an incensed Avery appeared. He didn't even draw his wand, but instead launched himself at Dolohov, meaty hands first._

_The ensuing battle was watched by a shocked Hermione, and by a calmly calculating Lucius Malfoy, who stood in the open doorway. They exchanged a glance as Dolohov's nose broke with an audible crack, and Hermione cringed at the sound and looked away. She made no move to help him, however. If she was very lucky, he'd run and Avery would chase him. Perhaps she could get away without having to endure Avery again._

_She pulled her feet up on the cot as another of Avery's crushing punches rolled Dolohov in her direction. For an instant she met his eyes, and was surprised to see panic there. This hadn't been in the plan, she supposed._

_It occurred to her that it might seem suspicious if she didn't at least try to acquire Dolohov's wand, which had been poking out from the pile of clothing at the foot of the cot. She cast a look in that direction, but it was gone. She noticed it a moment later, clutched in Malfoy's fist. He smirked wickedly and nodded at her when he noticed her looking at him. She looked away._

_When Dolohov failed to get up after Avery knocked his head against the wall, Malfoy intervened. "Enough!" he spat angrily. He glared Avery into submission, then mobilized Dolohov's limp body, knocking his head against the doorframe and following him out. For a brief moment, Hermione was convinced that Avery would follow. Another instant and she would be free._

_But it wasn't to be. Instead, Avery grabbed the pile of Dolohov's clothes and chucked them out the door before slamming it closed. The evil look in his eye was enough to make Hermione begin to shudder uncontrollably. He grasped her by her upper arms and shook._

_"I am going to break every bone in your body until you tell me what I want to know," he declared, almost gleefully. He gave her no chance to answer before breaking her wrists: both of them, at once._

_Hermione told herself she could endure it once more – just once more and she would be free. She was repeating the phrase, "Once more," when she arrived in Diagon Alley, hours later. The last thing she remembered thinking before waking in the hospital ward was that Harry and Ron would be certain to find her at the Quidditch supply store._

Hermione blinked rapidly when, half an hour later, the memories finally came to a halt. She was still shaking from the memory of her final encounter with Avery, though two more days had passed in her mind since then. Her eyes finally focused, and she sat up gingerly, as if expecting to be injured. When she realized that Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, as well as Madam Pomfrey, were staring at her, she swallowed hard.

"It's finished," she whispered. Instantly Poppy was out of her chair, wand in hand, to examine her for any signs of mentally inflicted re-injury. She fussed and fretted, assuring Hermione that everything would be alright. As if anything could ever be alright again.

* * *

Six days of Poppy's fretting were quite enough for most patients, but Hermione didn't appear to have any will to leave. She was still wearing pajamas, though they were at least a different pair than the ones she'd endured the memory in. Those she had surreptitiously incinerated during a rare moment alone.

Owls had arrived. First Pig, then Hedwig, and finally Hermes had arrived on her bed. The letters they brought were sitting under the pitcher of water on the stand beside her bed, unopened. Pig and Hermes had left again immediately, but Hedwig was still at the foot of her bed, his head under a wing, but clearly not leaving until the letter had been read. Hermione couldn't bring herself to care.

Professor Dumbledore had been kind during his daily visit that morning, but she could see his worry. It was clear that he thought she was in shock, though Madam Pomfrey could find no physical evidence to support that belief. Professor McGonagall had also come daily to see her. Her motherly efforts, however, only served to remind Hermione that she would shortly have to explain all of this to her own mother. It was sure to be an uncomfortable discussion.

Another week passed, and another owl arrived. Hedwig finally flew off, after looking at her reproachfully for an entire evening. The new owl, which Hermione didn't recognize, didn't stay, but dropped a letter addressed in her mother's hand into her lap. She thanked the owl, and waited until he'd flown out the window before placing the envelope under the water pitcher with the others.

Still, Hermione sat in bed, her eyes most often focused on the point where the wall met the ceiling. The clothes she'd been anxious to bring along were forgotten, and she now wore hospital garb. It hardly mattered, as she hadn't left her bed for anything but the lavatory in several days. Madam Pomfrey had, for the second time, failed to bring her any dreamless sleep potion with her dinner. She didn't rightly know how she'd be able to stand to close her eyes without it, but she figured she'd try. When she woke up the whole castle with her screams, they'd give her more, just like they had done last week.

At one point, while she was sleeping, she supposed, someone had brought her a book. Once in a while she glanced at it, but she couldn't bring herself to lift it from the table, though it was one she hadn't read before.

After two weeks of near-seclusion, she heard a commotion in the hallway, and closed her eyes, knowing what was most likely occurring. Immediately following the reinstating of her memory, she had requested of the Headmaster that Harry and Ron not be permitted to disturb her until she was prepared to deal with their questions. She listened to the argument the boys were having with Madam Pomfrey and frowned to herself. They'd stayed away a good long while, considering that they'd usually sat by her bedside for hours at a time when she was injured during school. But her over-active brain had not yet come up with enough lies to explain away her pain. And until she knew what she would say to them, she didn't want to see them, or anyone else for that matter.

None of her erstwhile Professors had questioned her on the matter of her captivity. It was clear to them from her reclusive manner that she had no wish to explain. As a result, she tolerated their visits, even though they often made her feel like a small child recovering from the mumps.

She spent her time thinking. Mostly her thoughts revolved around Dolohov. Her experience with him, much more than anything Avery had done to her, was forcing her to reevaluate her self-image. The image that was emerging was, to her mind, something of a travesty. What kind of woman willingly gave herself to her torturer? What kind of woman could enjoy _anything_ in such a situation? Hermione had been raised well. Clever and bright, she had scored well in every class she'd undertaken. Kind and with a gentle nature, she'd made friends with everyone who'd ever bothered to truly get to know her. Confident and brave, she'd lived through a magical war that had claimed the lives of many.

But giving herself to Dolohov had not been the doing of a clever, kind or confident woman. And if she was no longer any of those things, what was she, exactly?

* * *

Following the altercation in the hallway outside the hospital ward, Madam Pomfrey did something she had never imagined she would have to do. She warded the door from the inside.

Harry and Ron turned to one another after she'd left them. Ron shrugged, and offered the best consolation he could. "She'll come to us when she's ready, mate."

Harry, however, did not take such an optimistic view. "This is my fault," he whispered, predictably. "They would never have taken her if she hadn't been such a good friend to me."

Privately, Ron knew this to be true. That was, after all, the reason he'd been abducted as well. But he hadn't told Harry about that, and he wasn't about to now. "Don't be that way, Harry. She was top of our class, and Muggle-born. They would have targeted her no matter what."

They began the long journey downstairs to exit the castle, but when they reached the large front doors, Harry stopped. "You go ahead. I'm going to stop and see Severus for a minute."

"Alright, mate, but I don't imagine he'll improve your mood much," Ron joked feebly. Harry snorted and shook his head.

"No, I don't suppose he will. But he might be more willing to talk than Madam Pomfrey was."

Ron nodded and patted Harry on the shoulder before starting the walk down to Hogsmeade. He'd come to terms with Harry's friendship with their one-time Professor, more because of the strategic advantage it had afforded them during the war than for any other reason. Still, Harry's logic was sound. Maybe Snape would be able to tell him something about Hermione. Any small bit of information would be better than what they'd gotten from Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

The knock on the door was startling, and Severus scowled. He was not expecting anyone, and if it was the Headmaster come to update him on Hermione's lack of progress again, he was going to toss the old goat out on his pointed hat.

He'd avoided the hospital wing with a vengeance these last weeks, having heard from his colleagues that she didn't seem to be recovering as expected. Dumbledore had quizzed him about his obvious concern, and he'd replied, in a rare moment of honesty, that he'd begun to think of her as a friend. As the old man knew about his friendship with Harry, he had not inquired further. After weeks of solitude to reflect on his own behavior, however, Severus was wondering just how honest he'd truly been with the Headmaster. Would he have paced the hospital wing corridor, without going inside until necessary, had it been Harry in her place?

Rather than snapping at the knocker to enter, Severus pushed himself up from his desk and went to open the door. This was not the time of year when his antagonist might be a student, after all, and the rest of the staff expected a certain level of tolerance from him during the summer.

Harry came through the door with no words of greeting at all, and Severus could tell immediately that he knew everything Weasley knew about Hermione's current troubles. He closed the door carefully and warded it as he watched Harry casually take possession of his usual chair. Funny how he'd come to think of one of his chairs as Harry's and the other as Draco's. It crossed his mind that if they were ever both in the room, he, himself, would have no place to sit. He stifled the thought, and went back to his desk to finish the article he'd been skimming before the interruption. It was several minutes before Harry spoke.

"She's not reading our letters, and Madam Pomfrey won't let us in to see her," he said quietly. Severus marveled again at how far Harry had come. He was not pouting, but he was clearly distressed.

"I imagine Miss Granger has quite a lot to deal with right now. When she has finished coming to terms with her experiences, she will be ready to move ahead with her life." He kept his voice even. He'd known this day would come since the decision had been made to suppress Hermione's memory, and he knew what he would say. It wasn't going to be pretty.

There was silence between them, as Harry stared at the empty grate of the fireplace. "Ron tells me she wasn't targeted because of me. He seems to think I'm arrogant for even contemplating the idea." At this, Harry turned slightly in his chair and smirked. "But Ron's not telling me something, and his act doesn't ring true."

Severus looked up from the article. "Gryfindors are notoriously bad liars," was his only comment. He looked back down.

"What do you think?" Harry asked quietly. He didn't even marvel over the fact that he'd come to value Severus' opinion. It was only to be expected, after all the man had taught him.

Once again Severus ran over his plan in his head. If he chose to go through with it, there would be no turning back after this response. Once again, he decided it was probably the only way Harry would ever get passed this. He looked up and stared hard into Harry's green eyes. "I do not think Miss Granger would have been abducted had she not been your best mate."

Harry felt for a moment as if he'd been slapped. He narrowed his eyes instinctively, ready to defend himself, and then found he had no defense. Severus was right. His shoulders slumped, and he turned around in his chair again, avoiding eye contact.

Years ago, he would have railed against Severus for such a statement, uttered without feeling, and seemingly without regard for Harry's feelings. But things had changed. HE had changed, and he imagined Severus had too. Years ago, the older man would simply have written off his claim as arrogance, as Ron had tried to do, and made him feel worthless. This, though – this honesty – he could deal with.

For his part, Severus was impressed with Harry's restraint. He waited patiently while Harry thought.

And Harry did think. He thought hard about his feelings of guilt over Hermione's situation. He thought about his rather under-handed attempt to make a match between her and Severus. And he thought about whether or not that was still a good idea, after all that he'd just learned.

Finally, Severus spoke again. Weasley had had an opportunity to tell Harry the entire truth and had clearly passed it up. Severus didn't want to go through this again next year, or whenever the whole story came out, so he resigned himself to finishing it now. "Mr. Weasley was also taken captive that summer. He was more fortunate than Hermione, in that I was made aware of his location. He suffered rather less than she did, I believe, but his experience is not to be made light of. He also was questioned intensely as to your weaknesses, and the plans of the Order."

Harry had turned to stare at him, wide-eyed, at this pronouncement. He was surprised, but not shocked. It had seemed to him that Ron was being a bit shifty, and he'd assumed that there was more to the story. He'd been right. What did surprise him about that little speech was Severus' use of Hermione's first name. Perhaps he should not completely table his plans after all.

"Thank you for telling me," he said solemnly. He would speak to Ron right away. In the meantime - "Can you get in to see her?" He was careful with his wording and tone. He had a lot to deal with, but he would go home and manage his thoughts there. He had Ginny, now, to help him. Even as the guilt threatened to overwhelm him, he kept his mind focused. Severus wouldn't appreciate a weepy Gryfindor crying all over his nice chair.

Severus looked puzzled for a brief moment. He knew whom Harry was talking about, of course, but he could hardly believe that the storm he'd prepared for wasn't coming. Harry looked discomfited, naturally, but no more so than when he'd finished his Potions N.E.W.T. He wouldn't find this suspicious until much later. At the moment, he simply nodded.

"Will you tell her – tell her she doesn't have to tell Ron and me anything about what happened. But we're here for her. Tell her that?"

Severus thought this was a very thoughtful message and agreed. Harry didn't quite smile as he stood to leave. "Thanks." He let himself out and Severus was left wondering what he had done to deserve this particular errand. He admitted to himself that he'd like to check in on the girl, but didn't know how she would take his presence. Would she scream when he appeared? He remembered the way she'd squeezed his hand. He thought not. But she'd barely spoken to anyone since the memories had ceased. He decided he'd better have a very good reason to be in the hospital ward, and set aside his article to begin brewing.


	16. Recovery

Chapter 15 - Recovery

Madam Pomfrey had been a gifted Potions student when she and Severus attended school together. Only two years ahead of him, they had always maintained a mutual respect for one another. Consequently, Madam Pomfrey brewed most of her own potions for the hospital wing. There were some few, however, that were beyond her capacity. Skele-grow was one, which is why she purchased it from the Apothecary in Diagon Alley each summer.

For Severus Snape to arrive in the hospital wing with a supply of something as easily prepared as the Dreamless Sleep draught would have seemed quite odd, had it not been for the quantities of it currently being consumed by the only patient. He told himself she'd never suspect.

He strode into the room with his customary dispatch, taking the tray directly into the storeroom, right passed Hermione's bed, and proceeded to place the bottled potion on the admittedly bare shelves. Hermione watched him with the most interest she'd been able to muster in anything since her memory was restored. There was something she'd been meaning to ask him, and she'd thought about it a great deal in her seclusion.

When he'd finished and turned back toward her, closing the storeroom door behind him, she spoke. "You know it all, don't you?" she asked quietly.

Severus had been about to speak and was rather startled to be addressed first. He leaned the tray against the wall and approached her bed, unaware of the pain his eyes seemed to communicate. He nodded sharply once, a wary expression overtaking his features. He knew she'd left out a good bit from her explanation to the others. He didn't know how she'd react to his knowledge of the complete story.

Hermione looked down at the sheets and swallowed hard. "That's why you were so kind, then?" she asked, in the same agonized whisper. There was silence for an instant before she looked up at him sharply. "Pity," she spat, making it an answer rather than a question.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Respect," he shot back at once. "Pity is for the weak."

"I was weak," she admitted, reverting to her whisper at once, though not chastised in the slightest. A twisted, self-deprecating smile appeared on her lips as she lowered her eyes to the bed sheets again.

"You took what you needed from Dolohov and gave him nothing in return. Loyal Hufflepuffs twice your age have done worse."

Hermione met his eyes, pondering that statement. She remembered clearly how Remus Lupin had met his end. Hestia Jones had been caught and tortured for information, then killed. She remembered, too, how disappointed she'd been in Jones for giving the Death Eaters information. Now that she knew what the woman had endured, however, she was not so quick to pass judgement.

"Harry and Ron will never understand."

Severus had watched as comprehension came over her face. Her mind was as quick as ever, and she'd equated Jones' torture with her own almost at once. The two women's abductions had been eerily similar, though Hermione had certainly been the stronger. Dolohov had been beside himself as he told Severus the stories. He'd come away with nothing more than an excellent reason for the Dark Lord's wrath. And he had certainly received the Dark Lord's wrath.

"I don't imagine they need to," he answered finally. "Harry doesn't want details. He just wants you know he is there if you need him." If it had registered with Severus that he was staring hard into Hermione's eyes, he would likely have looked away. The intensity of the conversation had him distracted, however, and he didn't. Neither did she.

Hermione bypassed the matter of her friends as if they'd not spoken of it at all. "Dolohov told you?" Her tone was somewhat lighter.

"Indeed. He was supremely frustrated, as was Avery, at their inability to break you. Only Slytherins have ever managed such a coup on their interrogators in my previous experience." The corners of his mouth turned up inadvertently, and Hermione realized at once that he was complimenting her, in his own way.

She allowed herself a small smile. It didn't reach her eyes, but Severus thought it was a step in the right direction. They said quiet goodbyes, and Severus began the walk back to the dungeons. He had delivered Harry's message, and perhaps given Hermione some reassurance that she had nothing about which to be ashamed. As he was the only one who knew of her capitulation with Dolohov, he was the only one who could truly have provided her that. He hoped it did her some good.

When the door swung shut behind him, Hermione turned her eyes to the ceiling once again. Perhaps an hour passed as she thought long and hard about that conversation. Not long afterwards, however, Hermione sighed and focused her eyes on the pile of letters which was unbalancing her water pitcher. With another self-deprecating smile, she lifted her wand and summoned her overnight bag out from under her bed. I>"Pack," /I> she intoned quietly. When everything that was hers had neatly folded itself into her suitcase, she chose the outfit she'd worn to Harry's birthday party, and took it with her into the lavatory.

She emerged a few moments later, clothed for the first time in several weeks. After a brief look around, she picked up her bag and walked out of the ward, down the steps and out the door into the morning sunshine. Unbidden, another smile graced her lips. She'd not been in the sun for so long. She strode purposely down the hill to Hogsmeade, and Disapparated at the gate. From an upstairs window, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall watched her go, exchanging disbelieving looks, followed by tentative smiles.

* * *

Hermione settled herself into her flat in a bit more haphazard a fashion than usual, throwing her overnight bag onto the floor by the couch, and summoning a butterbeer from the Muggle refrigerator. She looked around. The place was filthy and her cat was missing. She assumed Harry or Ron had taken him to keep an eye on him. Not that he needed it. She could swear he got into the cat food without any help while she was studying. But he never made any noise at it, so she had no proof.

She parked herself at the little table in the kitchenette, thumping down the collection of letters that had grown substantially during her stay in the hospital wing. She read all the ones from her parents first. Then she applied herself to the task of giving them enough information to forestall their questions until such time as she could visit in person and answer them all.

To Harry and Ron, though, she wrote the truth. Tears streamed down her face as she described the entire situation in as much detail as she could stand. At the end of her written remembrances, she wrote the following:

_Harry,  
It is inevitable that you will feel guilt for what happened to me. You have such a kind heart that you aren't capable of ignoring what you see as your fault. But you should know that no one – not myself, nor anyone else – will ever blame you. And you should know that to ensure the defeat of Voldemort, I would do it all again, just as it was done the first time._

_Ron,  
You have been such a good friend to me through this time, though your methods were a bit unorthodox. But that showed you cared, and I clung to that as I remembered, as much as to anything. Thank you for all you have done._

_I hope you will both understand that I do not want ever to discuss this again. I don't intend to ignore it. I don't intend to run from it. But it is intensely personal to me, and now that I have explained it all to you both, I don't feel that any discussion could be beneficial. It will only make it hurt the more. Put aside your guilt, Harry, and your need to heal me, Ron. Life will go on, and so will we._

_Let's get together for lunch at Fortescue's on Saturday._

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

As she rolled the parchment, tear tracks drying on her face, and tightening her cheeks, she felt cleansed. It was as though the writing of it had removed it from her once again. She was writing of something that had happened almost two years ago. It was time to move on. She broke out another butterbeer and made a start on her correspondence work. Even after all this time, she found she wasn't behind. But she wasn't ahead anymore either. She quickly set to work.

* * *

Severus was informed of her abrupt departure the following morning at breakfast. It seemed the rest of the staff was a bit concerned, as they didn't know what could have finally provoked a response from her. He offered no explanation, and no one thought to ask him. If he was at all disappointed that she'd not spoken to him again before leaving, he chalked it up to fatigue. That night he slept better than he had in weeks.

He ran into Harry quite by accident the following October, in Diagon Alley. Normally he had no difficulty in stocking his storeroom twice each year: once during the summer, and once during the Christmas Holiday. This year, however, an unforeseen upturn in melted cauldrons and wasted ingredients had caught him by surprise. He was entirely out of several items, and had, thus, taken advantage of a detention-free Saturday to procure replacements.

It wasn't unusual for the two to see one another infrequently. What was unusual was how pleased Harry seemed to be. Severus had always supposed that his own demeanor had rubbed off on the young man somewhat, as he tended to be reserved in his greetings, and quiet in his speech for the most part – at least in Severus' presence. Today that was not the case. If it hadn't been before noon, Severus would have suspected that alcohol was involved.

"Professor!" Harry shouted, catching sight of him from several stores away. Severus supposed he should be grateful for the honorary, but didn't think he could manage to show it.

"Mr. Potter," he acknowledged, as soon as Harry was close enough that he didn't have to shout. They shook hands with a warmth that gave the lie to Severus' tone, or would have, had anyone been paying attention. They weren't.

"How've you been?"

Severus sighed. This was the one thing that bothered him about Gryffindors: polite inanities. "None the worse for wear," he muttered. He wished he could ask after Hermione. He'd not heard from her or of her since she had left the castle, just before term. Yet somehow he didn't feel comfortable asking Harry about her. He was saved the trouble.

"Hermione's doing great. Thanks for giving her my message. I don't think it helped much, but it gave you a chance to say something that really mattered to her, and THAT made all the difference." Harry modulated his tone carefully between gratitude and exuberance. He was truly pleased at Hermione's state of mind lately, but he also wanted Severus to realize that it had been his words that had brought closure for her.

Severus had no idea how to respond to this without mentioning that he'd known more about the situation than Harry had. Again, Harry, in his obvious good humor, solved the situation for him.

"I'm really glad you knew everything that happened. If no one had known, she wouldn't have been able to accept comfort from anywhere." His voice had dropped a bit. He had no intention of sharing with the world that there'd been more to Hermione's abduction than had met the eye. In particular, he had no desire for the other Hogwarts Professors to hear of it. While he and Ron were not inclined to judge Hermione, or begrudge her any comfort at all in such a situation, he understood that others might not be as understanding. He had no intention of making life more difficult for her than it already was.

"She explained the situation, then?" Severus was rather surprised by this. It took a great deal of bravery to explain such a thing to Gryffindors. But perhaps she was aware that their regard for her couldn't be altered by such a thing. He privately thought that Harry's message of not needing the details was precisely what had caused her to provide them.

Harry nodded. They looked at one another for a moment, both of them feeling a measure of sadness for Hermione's sake. "She wrote us a good seven feet of parchment." At this, Harry chuckled a little, and Severus shook his head ruefully. Clearly the experience had not changed every aspect of her personality. She was still a compulsive over-achiever.

It was not until the Christmas Holidays, however, that Severus gave Hermione another conscious thought. Perhaps he'd wondered briefly as to her comfort in the intervening months, but he never really sat down and thought hard about her until right after yet another visit from Draco.

* * *

The discussion had been familiar, but the desperation in Draco's voice had stood out in sharp contrast to their previous encounters.

Severus opened the door at the younger man's knock, and Draco brushed by him with no greeting at all, throwing himself petulantly into the most comfortable chair in the room – the one Severus now thought of as 'Draco's.' The similarity between Draco and Harry's behaviors when they were upset was not lost on Severus. When he had poured them both a drink and seated himself as well, Draco said what he'd come to say.

"She's losing it."

Unused to such vague, and faintly accusatory statements from a Slytherin, Severus had simply raised an eyebrow and awaited an explanation.

"Mother isn't holding up very well. You can imagine that no one will speak to her at all. Anyone who managed to convince the Ministry that they were under the Imperious Curse is avoiding her like the plague. She can't even shop in peace – she gets ignored in all the best stores." He paused. "She cried herself to sleep last night."

"I warned her that life might be more difficult in England, but she chose to return from France in spite of my advice," Severus reminded him as gently as he could. Draco scowled.

"Father sent her to France to protect her. It was only supposed to be until after the Dark Lord was gone. She isn't the sort to run back to his family with her tail between her legs."

"Your mother has always been a proud woman."

"I don't see how she can remain that way in the face of this – this outrageous discrimination!" Draco stood abruptly, swallowed his entire drink, and quickly poured himself another. "I've got to do something. There has to be some way to let the world know that my father wasn't just one more Death Eater. That he was only doing what he had to do to survive."

Severus watched Draco finish off two more drinks, and decided that was probably enough. He discretely charmed the liquor cabinet closed. It made little difference, however, as Draco had no intention of remaining. He had said his piece. He wasn't going to beg Severus to help him anymore. He would find a way himself. He was just drunk enough to believe that he could manage it.

Draco set his glass down rather harder than was strictly polite. "And if you won't help me, I'll do it myself," he announced woefully, heading for the door. "If I've got to be friends with Harry Bloody Potter, it might as well be worth something to me." With that he slammed the door and was gone.

Severus finished his drink. It was long since time to do his duty by Lucius Malfoy. He only hoped Hermione was ready to face what he was going to ask of her. There wasn't much Harry could do to help Draco, Severus knew. But Hermione, he suspected, was a different story entirely.


	17. A Favor Asked

**Chapter 16 – A Favor Asked**

Hermione struggled. The time between her departure from Hogwarts, and Christmas was difficult for her in more ways than she was willing to admit. Naturally she had trouble concentrating on her work. She was ahead again, but not as far ahead as she was accustomed to being by this part of term. Of course, no one had threatened to take away her scholarship or anything, so she didn't worry. The Masters were just as flattering in their correspondence as they had always been.

Ron had returned Crookshanks right after their trip to Diagon Alley. As she'd demanded, neither Harry nor Ron had mentioned her ordeal at all during their lunch. She'd been impressed with their restraint. After all, neither of them was known for following instructions. Conversation had been a bit stilted at first, but they'd all been so pleased just to be together, that they'd quickly moved past it. They talked of Quidditch, and Hermione found she didn't mind. They talked of Ginny, and of Ron's latest girlfriend, and even of the last few of Ron's mates that she'd rejected. She finally explained to Ron why she hadn't wanted to date them, and they all had a good laugh. It had been like old times, and afterwards Hermione had again felt cleansed. As though just being with her old friends could heal her. Upon further thought, she decided that it probably could, to some extent.

She and Ron had Apparated to the Burrow where a very affectionate Crookshanks had been sitting on the kitchen table, eyeing the exact spot of their arrival in the back yard. Hermione grinned. There was something very uncanny about her pet. She had missed him. She'd gathered up the cat and his basket (discovering that Ron hadn't brought the cat food, and had been feeding Crookshanks people food the whole time), said goodbye, and headed home.

Home was the problem. It wasn't that it seemed unfamiliar, after all she'd lived there since graduation. But several things had changed. The one that surprised her the most was the length of the days. She surmised that she'd been falling into a "state of grace" long before she'd realized it. The days seemed to stretch out interminably as she cleaned, or wrote, or researched, or brewed. Often she would look up at the clock expecting it to be lunchtime and find it was only ten o'clock. She began having a lie-in almost every day, as she seldom needed so much time to complete everything, and the flat seemed lonely.

A month after her return home, she visited her parents. She'd been dreading it since long before the reinstatement of her memories. They greeted her warmly, and said they were glad to see her looking so well rested. She chanced a glance in the upstairs mirror and found that she did, indeed, look better than she remembered. The circles that had seemed permanently etched under her eyes since her last year of school had faded. She supposed that now that she could remember the nightmares, and tell herself they were only nightmares, she was probably sleeping better, and certainly sleeping longer.

After a few days with her parents, she owled Harry to meet up in Hogsmeade. He was practically jovial with her, though he didn't indicate why. She allowed herself a moment of arrogance to think he might be pleased that she was out and about. They met in the bookshop, but ended up at Honeydukes, browsing the candy displays.

"Harry, did you tell my parents not to question me?" she asked abruptly as they pushed open the sweet shop door.

"Sure did," he responded. He didn't sound concerned at all about whether or not she'd be upset by his interference. This gave her pause. If he had sounded the slightest bit guilty, she would have been furious, but…..

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Harry turned to her and hugged her tightly. "Anytime."

Following that, Hermione found her nightmares diminished somewhat. Apparently the impending conversation with her parents had been troubling her more than she'd known. Now that she didn't have to worry about discussing her captivity with anyone, it seemed easier to deal with somehow. The heaviness in her chest lifted slightly, and life continued for her at a somewhat faster pace.

By December she was getting up early every morning, and the time flew by again as she studied, just as it had through all her years at school. Her flat still seemed inordinately quiet and lonely. She was far ahead in her studies again, however, and decided abruptly that it was time to start getting out more. She even briefly entertained the idea of having Ron set her up with one of his mates. She laughed to herself at this thought and shook her head. Maybe she was congratulating herself on her own stability too soon.

She was fixing herself lunch one Saturday afternoon, when a most unexpected letter arrived via Hogwarts owl. It read as follows:

_Hermione,_

_Though I imagine you are rather surprised at my sudden correspondence, I hope you will consider meeting with me at a time convenient to yourself. You will not be shocked, however, to hear that I've an ulterior motive. In fact, there is an urgent favor I must ask of you. I hope you will contact me with alacrity. You know my schedule here at Hogwarts, so I'm sure any time of your choosing will be acceptable._

_Severus Snape_

Severus had chosen his words carefully, but still felt an unfamiliar sensation of guilt as he sent the owl. If she was not as stable as Harry had implied, then he was doing her a horrible disservice. He shook off the feeling and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. The missive was on its way. There was nothing further to be done now.

An answer arrived only a few days later. Severus was, by then, in the middle of class with his third year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. A dull class, to be sure, but at least not a dangerous one. The school owl winged its way over the smoking cauldrons (not necessarily a safe practice for a bird), dropped the letter and flew off again. Severus got the odd impression that the animal was holding its breath. Clever bird.

If the students were disconcerted to see their Professor accepting mail in the middle of class, they didn't show it. His Slytherins might have shown some interest, subtly. Gryffindors would have openly gaped. But the Ravenclaws were much too engrossed in their work, and the Hufflepuffs much too timid to pay him any mind. Hence he felt little guilt for seating himself behind his desk and opening the reply.

_Severus,_

_Sunday evening will probably be the most opportune time to meet. Have you ever tried Muggle Chinese food?_

_-Hermione_

At the bottom of the page was an address in London.

He had tried Muggle Chinese food. He stifled a sigh. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

She had preceded him into the restaurant, and was seated facing the door, clearly alert to everything that was happening around her. He didn't hesitate as he opened the door and walked towards her table. Hesitation might be misconstrued any number of ways, none of which would be profitable to him. 

"Hello," Hermione said quietly as he seated himself across from her. She stifled a grin as he cast a deprecating glance at the not-quite-silk flowers that were stuck in a pot on their table. He removed them to the table behind him before returning her greeting.

"Hello. I suppose you are wondering what this is all about," he began briskly.

"No, actually, I was trying to decide what to order." It was only upon this statement that he realized she was holding an open menu. She picked one from the holder at the side of their table and handed it to him. "Do you have a favorite?"

He didn't, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He chose something, hoping he pronounced it correctly. She didn't laugh, and he counted that a victory. She only nodded and went back to her own deliberation.

Then, abruptly, she set the menu aside and signaled a waiter. They both ordered. When the short man was walking away again, and Severus was still looking in that general direction, she spoke. "NOW I'm wondering what this is all about."

She had an odd little half-grin on her face when he turned back to her. He took a deep breath. "Pared down to manageable proportions, this is about Draco," he began carefully. The little man returned with tea in handle-less cups, and left again. Hermione poured herself a cup, and some for Severus, and then sat back in her chair, honestly puzzled. What favor could he possibly be asking of HER on Draco's behalf? The man had everything. Clearly this wasn't a loan request.

Seeing that she would not interrupt, Severus embarked carefully on an explanation. "It seems his mother is in rather a lot of distress, and more and more it is becoming apparent to him that she cannot continue to live with the situation in which she finds herself." Here he paused.

"And what situation is that?" Having now seen a glimpse of where this conversation might be headed, Hermione sounded a trifle distant.

"She is a proud woman from an old family. You are aware that pureblood wizards are a very close knit society. Everyone knows everyone, and their business. She shouldn't have been surprised by the level of censure she encountered upon her return to England, but Draco tells me she is quite distressed by it. She no longer has any friends or relations, and certainly no influence. Her money is cold comfort to her now, when respectable shopkeepers won't accept it."

Hermione looked at him shrewdly. He had looked into her eyes throughout this narrative, right up until the comment about the shopkeepers. Then he'd focused his eyes somewhere over her right shoulder. She could see plainly that he regretted that last, and she knew exactly why. Lest he think she hadn't made the connection, she ventured a thought on the matter.

"That's the sort of world she wanted, isn't it? A world where a group of people are ostracized due to the nature of their relations?" She felt some gratification when he winced at her cold tone, but only a little. Above that she felt rather embarrassed. Was that her mouth condemning Narcissa Malfoy to the same purgatorial existence the woman had once wished on her? She resolved that she was better than that.

Severus watched her carefully, and noticed a peace creep into her eyes. "Perhaps. It is not an end toward which she labored, however." At Hermione's look of disgust he modified his statement. "I don't think she's ever labored toward anything at all, to be honest." This bought him a slight smile.

Their food arrived in little styrofoam containers. Severus grimaced a bit and picked up the plastic fork that had accompanied it. Hermione watched all this with some amusement. She hadn't chosen such an unusual meeting place for no reason. Such a place – where she was comfortable and he was out of his element – was the best place to entertain the request for a favor. They tasted their food in silence for a moment, and she watched surreptitiously as he took several hesitant bites, choosing first one vegetable, then another. When he had sampled each singular item before him, and finally begun to eat entire bites, she asked him to lay down his cards, so to speak.

"What is it that you want from me?"

So intent had he been on his food, the question took him by surprise. He took care to swallow decorously, and quickly thought over every possible answer to that question. If a few answers made their way into the list that had nothing whatsoever to do with Draco's situation, he stamped them out of existence to the best of his ability. In the end he decided that nothing short of the truth was likely to get him what he wanted. But he also decided not to just blurt it out. He leaned back in his chair, unconsciously assuming the same thoughtful pose Hermione had used early in the conversation.

"Lucius Malfoy knew I was a spy," he began carefully. He had begun to think of Hermione as a fencing opponent, rather than just a young woman with whom he was having a conversation. He watched her carefully. Her face was blank, and the mention of Malfoy did nothing to change that. He continued.

"He came to me in September of your 7th year to accuse me. We dueled." He stopped to pick up his tea and took a sip. It was already cold. He murmured a quiet spell and took another sip before setting it down again. "He wanted to know why, and how. He fired off questions as fast as spells, and I answered those I could. He never asked me what I'd told. He never defended the Dark Lord. And when he at last managed to separate me from my wand he stunned me and departed. We never spoke of it again."

There was a pause as Hermione ingested this information. She nodded warily for him to continue.

"It was clear to me from that time on, however, that he was sympathetic. Information that I had no cause to know found its way to my ears. When there was no time to position me for easy hearing, it arrived via anonymous owl, directly to the Headmaster. For a year, he spied for the Order, and his repayment was death, presumably at the hands of one of our own." He stopped again and looked at her carefully. She'd been staring at her food, but looked up when he fell silent.

"If he died by your wand, I need to know it right now," he said seriously. He hid his shock at his own audacity. He'd had no intention of demanding such information. Indeed, it was an unspoken rule among the members of the Order that questions such as this not be asked.

"I saw him only briefly during the fighting. I don't know his fate any better than anyone else." In spite of her annoyance over being required to think about these things, she was intrigued.

Severus nodded, then continued without further prompting. "You have it in your power to exonerate Draco's father, and reinstate his family honor."

Hermione looked at him mildly. She didn't want to discuss her captivity. As she wracked her brain, she could come up with nothing in Malfoy's behavior that would mark him as a member of the Order. He had smirked at her in that infuriating way he had, and taken Dolohov's wand before she could get to it. He'd only been there as a spectator, and to exert his authority –

Her reminiscing fell off abruptly and she looked up at her one-time professor. "My abduction was I his /I mission. Who else knew about it, besides the three of them?"

Severus had known she would eventually reach this conclusion. "No one," he replied softly. "Not a single other person had any idea where you were, or any access to the facility Malfoy chose."


	18. Relapse

**Chapter 17 – Relapse**

Hermione continued to stare at Severus for some time. Unnecessarily, she clarified. "There was no one else with access to that room?"

He only shook his head in silence.

Hermione thought back, to the day she'd left Hogwarts. She had never unpacked the bag of items that she'd taken with her that day. The book that had mysteriously appeared on her bedside table was still in that bag, along with her clothes, and a toothbrush, which she had replaced rather than unpack to use again. One other item was in that bag – one thing that wasn't hers, but had responded to the spell as if it was – the wand that had been pried from her bloodied fingers upon her arrival in Diagon Alley. She had taken it with her as she packed the night of Harry's party, thinking it might help her to deal with the memories. In the end, she hadn't so much as looked at it.

If it could be proven conclusively that the wand had belonged to Lucius Malfoy, then at the very least, aspersions could be cast on his infamy with the same heat that they were cast on his character. The ambiguity would probably be sufficient to return his widow's social standing to the "vaguely respectable" range, at least.

As she thought she began, unconsciously, to shake. She remembered the sneer Malfoy had given her as he clutched Dolohov's wand in his fist. What sort of look had it really been? Had he been trying to tell her? Did he fear that she had not already found it? Her eyes dropped closed as she remembered.

It wasn't until tears began to trace their way silently down her cheeks that Severus intervened. "Hermione?" he began softly. Her eyes snapped open, and the shaking stopped abruptly "You need only issue a statement on the matter, and provide the wand, to reopen the inquiry. I will testify. It will be enough." He didn't mention to her that Draco would probably have to provide a few thousand galleons to MAKE it enough. It was immaterial. Very suddenly he realized that the only thing in this situation that mattered to him from this point on was her comfort in the matter. Unfortunately he was in no position to guarantee that. She stood.

"I will owl you the statement and wand within the week," she said quietly. There was an odd timbre to her voice, of which he took note as he stood.

In an incongruously formal gesture, she held out a hand for him to shake. He did so, and she made her way to the door without another word. He sat back down, wondering just exactly what he'd asked of her.

* * *

He struggled with the question for a few hours as he made his way back to Hogwarts. Two unexpected surprises were waiting for him when he returned, but he didn't find the second until long after he'd dealt with the first. 

Ron Weasley was seated on the dungeon stairs, facing away from Severus as he approached his office. Lost as he was in self-censure, it was about the most unwelcome sight he could have imagined. He took a solid minute to fortify himself for the battle to come before speaking.

"Weasley. I presume you are awaiting me?" he asked scathingly, taking some small amusement in the startled scuffle as Ron stood and turned.

"Bloody right I am. If you wouldn't mind, I think we ought to talk in your office." Ron's voice was cold, but not overloud. Severus found himself surprised in his turn. Discretion was not a trait he would ever have listed in an description of Ron Weasley's character. Of ANY Weasley's character, for that matter. The obscenity he ignored.

"Right this way," he replied dryly, brushing passed the younger man and leading the way, though he knew they were probably equally familiar with the location of his office. He didn't bother trying to reach his desk before entering into this conversation. Although it would have certainly given him some emotional advantage, he had an unhappy feeling that he knew what this was about, and considered the handicap a penance of sorts. Besides, he hadn't the time. As soon as the door closed behind them, Weasley started in.

"I don't know what you said to her, but she's a mess. She was doing so WELL! How could you possibly justify – " Ron stopped short as Severus raised a hand. It wasn't so much the familiar gesture, which he'd seen more than once in class, as the look of comprehension on the man's face.

"She didn't discuss with you what I asked of her?"

"She didn't speak at all. She only cried." The clipped tone he used was more a result of his concern than anger. He'd wondered for quite a while if choosing not to talk about her experiences had kept her from dealing with them properly. He'd been able to confide in the Headmaster concerning his own difficulties. Hermione had gone to no one. "I finally had to give her some dreamless sleep draught to get her to quiet down. And then she just went to bed. I'm not leaving here without some more potion, either," he added defiantly, just as his voice had started taking on some semblance of normalcy.

Severus took in the changes in his tone in silence. Weasely was certainly angry, but not necessarily at him. He thought hard for a moment, unaware that he was pursing his lips until he saw anger overcome Ron's face again. He relaxed his own expression and abruptly turned and retrieved a week's supply of the potion in question. He packed the bottles into a box and set it down on his desk, but still did not retreat behind it.

"I asked her for the wand, and a statement that the case against Lucius Malfoy should be reopened. She agreed." He offered this information knowing that Weasley was aware of Lucius' involvement with the Order. It was one of many pieces of information he'd learned from Fred and George, who had learned it from Bill, whom Severus had told himself. The lackadaisical treatment of information had bothered him at the time, but it had been very carefully kept within the Weasley family. For all their faults, Severus knew them to be painfully trustworthy.

The young redhead looked appropriately shocked for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and pursed his lips in much the same fashion that Severus had done a moment before. "I'm going to have to make her talk, then. I was hoping that if you upset her that much, maybe you made her work her way through some of it." He looked up again. "She needs to."

"You are better suited to such a task than I by both temperament and relationship, I should think," Severus said, smirking. His opinion of the necessity of such a course was neither offered nor requested. Ron looked at him oddly for a moment.

"You know, when Harry first decided you were all right, I thought he was going barmy."

"Harry made me aware of your thoughts on the matter."

"Was it you who made him blackmail me to talk to him again?" Ron asked, a little amazed with his own audacity. He'd often wondered it, but hadn't ever dared broach the subject with Harry or Snape.

"One day the two of you were not speaking, and the next you were. I was never offered any explanation as to how it came about," Severus replied, his tone one of dry humor. His smirk hadn't faltered. This would be a bad time to reveal that he had learned of the nature of that blackmail only within the last year.

Ron nodded in response. He couldn't think of anything else to say. "Thanks for the potion, Snape," he finally said, abruptly sticking out his hand. Severus looked at it a moment.

"Severus," he replied, indicating that the boy ought finally to call him by his name. For his trouble, Ron flashed him a grin that was at once charming and triumphant, as they shook hands for the first time in all their acquaintance.

"Then, call me Ron," he replied. At Severus' stiff nod, Ron picked up the box of potion bottles and let himself out, feeling inordinately pleased with himself. It had taken a few years, but he felt as though being recognized as an adult by Severus Snape was a rite of passage he had previously been denied. He shook his head, knowing that if Harry, and then Hermione, had never made friends with the old bat, he wouldn't have cared to either. He headed back to the Burrow, where Hermione was out cold in his bed, wondering what he was going to tell his mother.

* * *

Ron tried over the course of the next several weeks to draw Hermione out of her renewed misery. She stayed at the Burrow only long enough to thank him for the potion, thank Molly for letting her rest, and thank Ginny to please stop asking so many questions. Then she Apparated back to her flat, followed swiftly by Ron. As he'd recently lost another girlfriend, he was available to spend every waking moment with Hermione, which he did. Harry, too, made daily appearances. Both men watched dejectedly as owl after owl dropped off assignments and letters that were read and disregarded by their silent friend. 

Hermione neither cried, nor spoke of anything weighty during those three weeks. Finally, Ron took Harry aside.

"This isn't working, mate," he said solemnly. They were walking from her flat to the Apparation point (Ron having learned the hard way not to Apparate or Disapparate from her flat), as Harry did each afternoon to return to Ginny.

"I really thought that when I told her about the baby, she might at least crack a smile," Harry replied dejectedly, shaking his head. He told himself that Hermione's lack of interest in Ginny's newly revealed pregnancy wasn't personal – that she just had a lot to deal with. But he had to admit that her sterile congratulations had hurt a bit.

Ron only shook his head. He wasn't very good with women, but he was a strategist, and as such he knew that timing is paramount. Just now it was clear that Hermione wasn't able to examine any situation but her own, much less take pleasure in another's happiness. It had been a bad time for Harry to introduce the subject. It was at this point that Ron said the one thing that Harry had never imagined he would say, thereby bringing up a concept Harry himself had long since allowed himself to forget. "The only person she's going to talk to is Severus," Ron whispered, looking around shiftily. "Thing is, I don't know how to get them together without being – you know – obvious."

Harry stopped walking and turned toward his childhood friend, blinking as though the sun had just come out. "Severus?" he asked wonderingly. Ron had never referred to the man as anything but _Snape_ , or on rare occasions when Hermione had forced the issue, _Professor Snape_, derogatory emphasis on _Professor_. To hear him utter Severus' name without any venom at all was a bit like being doused in chilled bubertuber puss.

Ron continued to look a bit sheepish. "Yes – er – he and I had a talk, and –" he shrugged inelegantly. Harry grinned, and let him off the hook. He could find out what had taken place from Severus at a later date. He had learned to bide his time.

"Just leave it to me, mate. I'll get them together one way or another." They traversed the rest of the distance to the Apparation point in silence, and shook hands before Harry headed home. Ron heaved a weary sigh and went back to Hermione. She would need to eat soon, and it was this time of day that she often began to shake for no reason. He wanted to be there to comfort her, though he was becoming more convinced daily that he was not the man for the job after all.

* * *

Harry was visibly stressed when he arrived at home, but the sight of Ginny, belly just beginning to convex, seated before the green flames of their fireplace chatting with her mother, brought a smile to his lips anyway. He kicked off his shoes at the door, and came over to seat himself beside her, carefully ignoring the knowing look that passed between mother and daughter. Ginny forced herself not to laugh at the disbelief on her mother's face. Luckily the time of their bet had already lapsed. 

"And how is Hermione?" Molly asked abruptly, obviously jumping to the topic due to his arrival. Harry had only a split second to decide. He chose to go ahead with the plan he'd come up with while walking with Ron.

"Quiet," he responded wearily. "She won't say a word to Ron or I. The only person she's ever talked to about any of it is Severus." He propelled himself up from the floor to pace behind Ginny, ignoring the concern on both women's faces. Ginny watched him carefully. Molly Weasley only shook her head.

"He may be the only person alive who suffered more than she did at the hands of the Dark Lord," she observed. Harry privately thought that his mother-in-law had no idea what all either of the people in question had suffered, but was pleased that she seemed to be catching on so quickly. He waited another moment, hoping she'd take her observation to the next logical step. There was only silence, however, until Ginny spoke, still looking at Harry with an alarmingly discerning gaze.

"You should ask him to speak with her," she suggested. Her voice sounded hollow, as if she knew what his answer would be. As if she knew the game, and had decided to play.

"I already imposed on him to speak with her once, while she was still in the hospital wing," Harry said immediately, flashing his wife a grateful, but appropriately sad smile.

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed immediately.

"No, really," Harry insisted. "He doesn't appreciate feeling like he's being used. If only he could hear about things some other way, I bet he'd make an effort. I don't know if she'd talk to him about it again, though."

"If she did once, she will again," Molly said sagely. "You just leave things to me."

They all said their goodbyes quickly, and the green glow of the flames disappeared, bathing the room in normal orange firelight. Harry took a moment to admire his wife's flaming hair before noticing the expression on her face. This little game was going to cost him, as he had known it would from the moment she spoke.

"Is this what you've been after all these months?" she asked abruptly. Then, the disbelief fading as she became convinced by her own memory. "Malfoy's New Year's party – YOUR birthday party – you've been playing matchmaker all year, haven't you?" Her accusation didn't catch Harry off guard. He'd been thinking fast even before Mrs. Weasley's head had disappeared into the flames. He was careful not to lie.

"Matchmaker? You mean, trying to get them to DATE? Can you honestly imagine Severus as anyone's boyfriend? Ginny, I want Hermione to have someone she can talk to. Ever since I found out about her abduction, I've been hoping she would open up to somebody. Clearly it isn't going to be you, or me, or Ron. So why NOT Severus?"

To this Ginny had no answer, but she sputtered a bit before grasping onto: "They can hardly speak without fighting. I told you what happened when they tried to research that new potion!" Indeed, she had told him bits and pieces of that story, after much persuasion, but he had gotten the whole story by more covert means long before she'd been cajoled to spill the beans. It had left him with a very clear impression that Severus cared more for Hermione's opinion of him than even Severus was aware. The whole episode had only solidified Harry's resolve to lead them toward one another.

Harry didn't even respond to this outburst. He just smirked a little. Ginny, however, was not fooled, and was truly upset. "Harry, she's going through hell right now. How can you possibly be thinking about her love life? Do you know how long it was after Riddle, before I could even think of – "

Ginny stopped talking abruptly, horrified at what she had almost said. She'd been only 11 years old, and as memories of her misdeeds had begun to make their way back into her consciousness, she had gone to Professor McGonagall. Her Head of House was the only person in whom she had ever confided, and she had meant to keep it that way. With the Professor's help, she had worked past all that had happened to her, slowly, over the course of several years. To her shame, she had used several boyfriends cruelly in that time, but she had done what was necessary to heal herself, and in the end, they'd all forgiven her.

Harry, older, wiser, and more observant than he had been in school, forced his face to show nothing at all – a trick he had learned from Severus, but rarely employed. He gathered his wife into his arms without comment. He was aware that she'd not meant to bring up such a topic, and he had vowed years ago never to ask her what had happened that year. Until she offered information, he would never request it. The case was closed, and neither brought it up again.


	19. Act First, Analyze Later

**Chapter 18 - Act First, Analyze Later**

Severus found both the wand and the letter from Hermione several days after his confrontation with Ron. They were in a box in his storeroom. An odd location, to be sure. When questioned, Dobby admitted that the box had arrived addressed to _him_, with instructions inside as to how the box ought to be presented to Professor Snape. If the Professor found this odd, there was little he could do about it. He read over the letter Hermione had written, which was addressed directly to Amelia Bones, with approval. He immediately sent off an invitation to Draco to visit Hogwarts at his earliest convenience, which Draco did. By that time, Severus had already forwarded Hermione's letter to Madam Bones. When Draco arrived, he was clutching a letter of his own: a summons to testify. He was also sporting a rather disconcerting grin.

"I don't know how you did it!" he exclaimed, when he'd seated himself in his usual chair. Severus poured him a drink before sitting as well, but had no comment. "What's the matter," Draco asked, "aren't you pleased?"

Severus had thought his expression was no different than usual. But he knew Draco was rather more observant than the Gryffindors he usually found himself surrounded by. He suppressed a sigh. "The reopening of your father's case came at rather a high price," he volunteered carefully. "It seems Miss Granger has been traumatized by my request."

For all his powers of observation, Draco couldn't possibly see why this should be the case, nor, indeed, why Severus had asked Hermione for assistance rather than Harry. It had been Harry whom Draco had been determined to ask. In the end, however, he didn't feel he had the right. Polite as Potter always was to him, they had never truly been friends. He was about to ask for an explanation, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Bill Weasley entered Severus' quarters upon invitation, and they all shook hands rather formally. There was a bit of uncomfortable silence, during which Draco reseated himself. Severus gestured to the empty chair, but Bill shook his head, preferring to lean against the mantle of the fireplace.

"I'm sorry if I've come at an inconvenient time, but we're having a bit of a family crisis," Bill said, his tone fairly light.

Severus raised an eyebrow in response, already anticipating the topic. It seemed all the Weasleys defended Hermione as though she was a beloved sister. Draco, however, stood again abruptly. "I'll just catch up with you another time," he offered, knowing he would feel uncomfortable talking about his own families various crises with a Weasley, and assuming that the feeling was probably mutual.

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy," Severus advised direly. "This involves you more than you realize." Draco sank elegantly back into his seat.

At this it was Bill's turn to look skeptical. He was suddenly aware that the news he'd come to bear had somehow preceded him. When both the Slytherins had turned their eyes back to him, he cleared his throat. "As I see you've guessed, this is about Hermione. It seems that Ron hasn't had any luck getting her to talk. She also doesn't eat, sleep, or study. When she told him not to come back, he brought Crookshanks back to the Burrow, because she hasn't fed the cat once since she wrote that letter to Madam Bones."

At the end of this speech, Severus drew a deep breath, and then pulled out a worn wand box from his robes. He could see plainly that before he dealt with Bill, he was going to have to answer Draco's yet unspoken question. He removed the wand, and held it up between the three of them. "Does this look familiar to either of you?" he asked. Bill's eyebrows scrunched at the apparent non sequitor. Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Where did you get that? It's been missing from the manor for years!"

Severus replaced the wand in its box and put it away, knowing that spells would be cast by the Wizengamot to find out who had handled the wand, and not wanting Draco to be tempted to touch it. In a very quiet voice, he began to tell Hermione's story - the story she'd originally told the Headmaster - to Draco. Upon finishing, he discovered the room heavy with silence. Draco had a look of horror on his face that he couldn't hide. Bill took up the narrative from there.

"It was weeks before Hermione left the hospital ward. She told Ron and Harry that the only thing that seemed to penetrate her mind in all that time was a conversation she had with you, Severus. Whatever you said meant something to her. Ron suspects you might be the only person she'll talk to about all this. She sure won't talk to him."

"I have been in contact with Hermione's Minerology Master," Severus admitted after a moment of thought. "She has not turned in any assignments in the last few weeks, since we spoke. It had occurred to me that I might try to garner her interest in one of her assignments or another, so I took the liberty of having the man owl me copies of them. They have not yet arrived. If you feel it would be prudent, I can contact her when they do and attempt to engage her in conversation about one of them."

Draco was looking at him incredulously and for a moment Severus wondered what could have made him admit to such a thing. It was bad enough that he actually HAD contacted Hermione's Masters to check up on her. Bill, however was grinning widely. "That would be just the thing!" he exclaimed, pleased. He'd been sure this was going to be worse than forcing mummies back into sarcophogi. "Thanks," Bill continued, offering his hand to shake again before making his way hurriedly back to the door. Severus watched him go with relief. Now all he had to do was deal with Draco.

He was expecting that not to be particularly odious. Draco had been trained since infancy to control his emotions, and with the exception of anger, he'd mastered the skill at an early age. He was shocked to the core, therefore, when he turned back to Draco to find the boy staring at the fireplace, the horrified look still plastered over his features, and a tear track down his cheek. Severus found he had no idea what to say. He poured them each another drink and sat down, letting his eyes drift to the fire as well.

Half an hour had passed when Draco abruptly picked up his drink again and downed it quickly. "What I don't understand is how she could even look at me," he said quietly. Severus watched another tear fall, and then another.

"The last time you saw her, she had no memory of what happened," he reminded Draco quietly. "But she did know the details. She does not hold you responsible for her difficulty."

Draco said nothing further, and left shortly thereafter. Severus sat for quite some time, staring at the fire and thinking.

* * *

Hermione stared dispassionately at the mound of homework before her. Sixteen potions, four minerals she was supposed to collect from their most magical geographical locations and test, and at least twelve papers on various subjects that she was supposed to write. To say that she was behind again was to say that the world was a bit larger than the average oyster. 

She'd sent Ron away and now she regretted it. What's more, the great prat had taken Crookshanks with him, as though he was afraid she'd forget to feed the poor beast. But she wasn't forgetful. Not anymore. She wasn't even lazy. Part of her wanted to get out of bed. She had managed it on a few occasions. Part of her even wanted to get a start on all the work she had to do. But she couldn't. She knew with blinding certainty that she couldn't move forward until she'd come to some kind of agreement with the ghosts of her past.

Letters continued to arrive. She responded to some half-heartedly. She wrote back to Harry and Ron when they wrote, but said nothing of consequence. She wrote back to her parents, affecting a cheerfulness she couldn't feel. She even went so far as to tell them she'd been out of touch for three weeks while she was traveling to obtain the mineral samples she had not yet obtained. It was the first lie she remembered telling since the troll incident. Once she'd answered everyone at least once, the owls stopped coming, which is why she was, again, surprised by a letter born by a Hogwarts owl, arriving on a Saturday afternoon.

The Saturday in question had been spent in bed. Indeed, she didn't even rise to open the window, preferring to do so with her wand. The bird flew in, deposited its letter, and withdrew immediately, as if it had been instructed as to her mood (or perhaps warned to avoid the no-longer-resident kneazle).

Hermione recognized Severus' handwriting, and debated over opening the letter. She had sent him the wand and document he'd requested. What more could he possibly want? In the end, curiosity prevailed.

_Hermione,_

_It has come to my attention that the favor I requested has caused you some distress. As that was not my intention, I would like the opportunity to make amends. I understand you are preparing for a trip to the Netherlands. Very little grows there, as I am sure you are aware, and most of the potions I teach at Hogwarts require only carbon-based ingredients. However there are a few potions on my research schedule, which I believe might respond better to the addition of certain minerals found in that area. It seems possible, therefore, that our planned expeditions might overlap. I intend to spend the Christmas Holiday there while the school is closed. If that time frame is amenable, please respond by return owl._

_Severus_

Hermione read the letter over several times in confusion before her eyes fell again on her pile of assignments, and she remembered the mineral gathering the Masters required of her. She had no plans, however, to do any work at all in the foreseeable future. She sent back her succinct regrets and didn't think about it again until after Christmas.

* * *

Severus received Hermione's owl, informing him that she wasn't going to accompany him to the Netherlands. Perhaps that had been a bit much to request of her in her current condition. His thought had been to remove her from the area, which would hopefully cause her to be more at ease. That failed, however, he initiated a backup plan. 

The timetable he'd put forth for his trip had been necessary due to the hearing convened on Lucius Malfoy's behalf. Severus knew he would have to testify, and did so. He presented the wand, which the Wizengamot tested, determining that no one had touched it but Severus, Hermione, and Lucius Malfoy, and that it had last been used for Apparation. Draco also testified that the wand belonged to his great-grandfather. His mother was brought in to determine whether she would also recognize the wand. She did.

In the end, however, it was not enough. In spite of the many palms Draco carefully greased, the whole trial was thrown out, citing circumstantial evidence. Nothing short of Hermione's testimony was going to make them change their minds. She, after all, was the only person alive who'd been there.

Following this, and only a few days into the Christmas Holiday at Hogwarts, Severus undertook the trip to the Netherlands alone. He collected all the items Hermione's assignment required, and a few things he truly did want for his own stores. He could, much more conveniently, have purchased what he needed at the nearest apothecary, but that would not have served his purpose. After three days in the bitter cold of the Netherlands, he returned to the bitter cold of London, bearing with him everything Hermione needed to complete the assignment.

After an afternoon of careful thought, he presented himself at the door to her flat, knocking impetuously in case she had any thought to ignore her visitor, which had been her MO for several weeks now.

Somehow the firm knocking at the door penetrated Hermione's sleep-adled brain, and she realized that none of her friends knocked that way. They all knocked tentatively, unsure of their welcome as they were. She pulled on a robe and shuffled out to the door, casting a spell to determine who was waiting outside it. With a bitter smile, she opened it. "Hello."

"Hello. I hope you'll forgive the intrusion. As you couldn't deign to join me on my expedition, I have brought the fruits of my labors to you, instead." Severus, having prepared only that introductory speech ahead of time, was out of things to say, but still standing outside the door.

Hermione shook her head. Then, as he quirked an eyebrow, it occurred to her that she ought to invite him in. She stepped back out of the way, and he swept past her quickly. She watched bemusedly as, after a quick glance around, he made for the kitchen and began removing items from a box and returning them to their original size.

"How did you know what minerals I needed?" Her sharp mind was still working overtime, and the question practically posed itself. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, now, watching him.

Severus paused. This was where things got tricky. "Your Master wrote me to discover why you'd not turned in any assignments. Apparently you are far enough ahead most of the time that he didn't want to trouble you with a reminder unless something were actually wrong."

"And what did you tell him?" Hermione asked, clearly annoyed.

Severus didn't answer. Having finished his unpacking, he banished the box, with the tell-tale copy of her assignment still inside. "I wonder if you might offer me dinner? I AM just back from a rather grueling trip." He tried to keep his words light, but managed to sound as presumptuous and arrogant as ever.

Hermione snorted in vague amusement. Some things never changed. For that she was grateful. "I don't have any food here, or I would. Well, there are some crackers in the cupboard," she amended hastily, seeing his displeasure at her admission.

"You keep no food on the premises?" He looked her up and down, noticing she was thin to the point that she looked unhealthy.

His traveling eyes bothered her. "DON'T DO THAT," she snapped angrily, pulling her robe closed more tightly. She turned and fled to the living room, furious with him for bringing up memories she'd rather forget, and with herself for reacting to them.

Severus squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. THAT was not what he'd intended. He glanced around, noticing the Muggle telephone. After a quick search of the paper scraps held to the large metal box with magnets, he discovered the phone number for the Chinese place they'd dined at weeks before. He imagined he'd learned enough about telephones from Arthur Weasley to discover how to use this one. He ordered them food, to be delivered within half an hour, although they originally tried to tell him it would take an hour. He was patently unsure whether he could convince her to let him stay that long.

This task successfully completed, he followed her into the living room, assuming she would have had enough time to come to her senses. "I was simply trying to determine how much weight you'd lost," he said into the silence.

Hermione was staring at the empty fireplace. The shimmer of wards was just visible. She'd closed her fireplace to Floo calls. He wasn't surprised. "I know. I'm not fit company."

"Thankfully I have had little other company to compare you to." He received a dry laugh for his trouble. He seated himself across the room from her and kept his eyes firmly on the fireplace. It was a more difficult thing to do than he would have imagined. He wondered what she'd seen in his eyes that had made her react so.

Hermione watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye. He kept his face averted from her entirely, and she appreciated it. She knew why he was here - yet another of her friends' attempts to reach her. What she couldn't understand is why he'd agreed to such a plan. What did he care if she didn't turn in her assignments? Being a fairly straightforward person, she worked up her nerve to ask him.

"You didn't answer me earlier. What did you tell the Masters?"

Severus didn't allow himself to turn toward her. "I did not respond once I had the information I wanted. I thought it would be response enough if your assignments began to arrive again."

She nodded silently. That didn't satisfy her curiosity entirely, however. "Why are you here?" Now he did look over at her, and again, there was an intensity in his eyes that troubled her.

"As I said in my letter, it appears to be my fault that you have lapsed into this morass of despair." The last three words he couldn't help but tinge with sarcasm. "That being the case, I felt it was my responsibility to -"

"THAT'S what they told you to make you come?" Hermione demanded angrily, standing. "That it's YOUR fault! The great PRATS. As if it could be anyone's FAULT. I just need TIME." She took a great, gasping breath, clearly the prelude to a sob. Severus stood as well.

"I can't believe they would try to blackmail you into coming here. Why? Because I told them you helped me back at Hogwarts, of course," she answered herself. It was clear that she'd forgotten his presence as she talked to herself and paced. "But that's such an underhanded way to - "

"I was not MADE to come here," Severus said, so quietly that she stopped in her tracks. If he'd ranted as loudly as she, she might have continued to ignore him, but this quiet admission got her attention. "I thought I might be of some service. It seems I was mistaken. I will take my leave."

Hermione watched him walk to the door. But as he was about to open it, the bell rang. He looked startled for a moment before turning back to her quizzically. Suppressing another snort of amusement, Hermione pressed a button on the wall. "Yes?"

"China Garden, Ma'am," came the tinny response. She sent an exasperated look at Severus who smirked in response. Hermione pressed another button, which made another ringing sound, and they heard the door open, and someone shuffle toward them in the hallway outside. When the delivery boy knocked, Hermione opened the door and paid for the food, bringing it inside wearily.

Severus was unsure whether he would be invited to stay due to the arrival of dinner, or if he ought just to make his escape while he still could. He was surprised but relieved when she spread the food out on the coffee table and gestured him back into his chair. "You might as well stay and watch me eat," she said resignedly. "Then you can at least report back to them that I've improved in that regard. Maybe then maybe they'll give Crookshanks back to me." This last was said so despondently that Severus immediately wondered at Ron's audacity in taking away her familiar. When he'd first heard about it from Bill, it had seemed a natural inclination. Now, however, leaving Hermione so alone seemed unforgiveable.

"I am not here to relieve the curiosity of the masses." He ate with a bit more gusto than usual. She watched him silently for a moment.

"Then I ask you again, what are you doing here?" After only two bites, Hermione set down her fork and crossed her arms.

"I am here because I am concerned. Is that such a surprise to you?"

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. To tell him that she was shocked would be fairly insulting. She had come to know him well enough to realize that the heartless bastard who'd taught her Potions all those years had mellowed considerably through Harry's influence.

"No, I suppose it isn't. But you needn't be concerned. I will heal with time. If anyone would leave me alone long enough, that is."

"Am I interrupting your healing process substantially?" he asked, his voice betraying a bit of annoyance.

At this comment, and the accompanying scowl, Hermione laughed outright for the first time in recent memory. "No. You aren't, oddly. Maybe you could come back tomorrow morning and force me out of bed then, too. I think if I could just get up in the mornings, I might be able to work..." she turned a bit red at this admission. He had turned to look at her sharply. "The Dreamless Sleep Draught makes the nights far more bearable than the days."

"You're still taking it nightly? That's extremely foolish. Surely you're aware that it's addictive."

"I'm taking about a quarter of a dose each night. According to all my resources, not enough to become addicted, but enough to keep the worst of the nightmares away. Sometimes I dream, but I forget them in the morning."

Severus relaxed and nodded. "That should prevent addiction, particularly if you begin watching your diet. Certain vegetables can counteract the effect."

Hermione looked back at the dark fireplace. She had no diet to watch. "Eat," Severus urged, noting her response. Hermione pursed her lips, but began to eat again.

When Severus had finished, and Hermione had finished all she was going to, he took his leave quietly, Disapparating from outside her door. The walk back to Hogwarts was long for him, as he wondered exactly what had possessed him to show up at her flat. Clearly she didn't want company. But then, she HAD indicated, seemingly as a joke, that he ought to come by in the morning to wake her.

He weighed the pros and cons of this as he walked. It would be awkward, for certain. But it would give her the opportunity to work on her assignments, and he would get to see her again. He swallowed hard in the darkness, realizing that he'd decided. He would go back tomorrow morning, if for no other reason than that he wanted to see her. He shook his head and tried to think back over their previous encounters to determine when he'd started taking such notice. The pattern emerged in his head, and he stifled a sigh. This was NOT a good time to decide he was interested in the girl. She wasn't in any condition to return anyone's affection, much less his.


	20. Something to Focus On

**Chapter 19 - Something to Focus On**

Hermione closed the door behind Severus Snape and listened for his Disapparation. With more than a little trepidation, she went into the kitchen to see what he had brought. She wasn't surprised to find that it exactly matched the requirements of her assignment, which she hastily retrieved from the pile of work she'd been ignoring in her bedroom. She looked between the parchment and the samples. How could she use them knowing that Severus had done the most difficult part of the assignment for her?

It was as she was deliberating this moral dilemma that someone began knocking insistently at her door. Hermione went to the door a second time, wondering if perhaps Severus had been given a script to follow, and had just discovered that he'd missed something. She was very shocked, therefore, to swing the door open and discover Draco standing with his hand poised to knock again. He lowered it quickly.

"Malfoy?" Still reeling from the nearness of her memories, it was the only name that came to mind, and Draco, perceiving that he'd been demoted from first name basis due to something that was not his fault, scowled at her in a very familiar way.

After a moment of silence, Hermione stood aside. "Sorry. Come in, then," she allowed with rather less grace than he had come to expect from her.

Draco stepped inside, noting her bathrobe and wild hair. "Hello, Hermione. Perhaps I should have Flooed ahead?"

Hermione laughed hollowly and headed back to the kitchen, knowing he would follow. It wasn't lost on Draco that she trusted him enough to turn her back on him. "It wouldn't have done you much good, as I disabled the Floo weeks ago," she said as she seated herself and went back to reading over her homework assignment. Draco felt exceedingly out of place, but continued to stand by the sink, staring sightlessly at the various bottles placed on the table before her.

For Hermione's part, she could think of no reason Draco might have chosen to visit her. Certainly she'd made it clear to everyone that she wished to be left alone, well, everyone except Severus. She wondered what had possessed her to ask him back the following morning. She decided that it was only because she was sure he wouldn't come that she'd said such a thing. She risked a glance at Draco and noticed his vacant expression.

"How is your mother?" she asked quietly.

Draco's head snapped up at this, and he shook his head. "She's packing to return to France. Surely you've seen the Prophet?"

Again she laughed mirthlessly. Draco decided abruptly that he despised the sound. "I haven't read a paper in weeks. I stopped opening the window for their owl one day, and it hasn't returned since."

"They threw out the case for lack of evidence," Draco said quickly, while he still had her attention. He found himself chagrined over the changes in Hermione. She was neither the know-it-all with boundless energy with whom he'd competed for top Potions grades, nor the self-assured woman he'd danced with at New Year's. She seemed perpetually distracted. He couldn't blame her, now that he knew the full story, but he was disquieted by it all the same.

But upon this statement, Hermione rose from her chair again and stared at him. "You're kidding!" she exclaimed, clearly agitated, but at least paying attention. With a quick word, she summoned a sheaf of parchment, already drafting another letter to Amelia Bones in her mind.

Draco, too pleased at her animated state to look annoyed at her exclamation, seated himself at the table as the parchment arrived. "It isn't worth writing again, it won't work."

Hermione stilled her quill and looked up at him. There was a quiet moment during which Draco swallowed hard and Hermione set the quill carefully back on the desk. "Because I didn't testify. That's why they threw out the case." She wasn't asking. If she had been, Draco's expression would have been sufficient answer.

"We haven't ever been close, you and I, but you've stuck up for me to your friends ever since graduation, and we've gotten along pretty well since New Year's, right?" he asked, clearly working his way up to something. Hermione nodded warily. "Will you – do you think you could testify in favor of my father? I know it's a lot to ask. Severus told me what – "

"What did he tell you?" Hermione demanded suddenly, cutting him off. She'd been about to agree. However, she was very suddenly aware that she didn't appreciate Severus speaking about her ordeal, even if Draco did have a vested interest.

"He explained that you went through a lot that summer when you were taken captive by my father. But he also said that Lucius didn't actually hurt you."

"No, he had his lackeys do it for him!" Hermione jumped up from the table, breathing heavily. "How DARE you, come here and ask me to – to – " she choked, and sobbed, unable to finish her sentence, and ran back into the living room.

Draco knew at once that he was in over his head, but he followed her anyway. She had thrown herself face down onto the couch, and was clutching a pillow over her eyes. He was wary. Should he try to comfort her, or would she prefer not to be touched? He tried to think of how he would feel, if it'd been him, and couldn't come up with anything. It was all quite outside his realm of experience. In the end he sat down, near her waist, on the couch. "Budge over," he whispered, putting a hand gently to her back and rubbing in what he hoped were comforting circles. She hiccoughed hysterically for several minutes, but didn't scream at him to leave her be, so he thought he'd made the right choice.

It annoyed him that he was 'chief comforter.' He barely knew the woman. Aside from brief glimpses during Ministry functions, an evening spent trying to charm his way into her knickers, and a few odd moments at Potter's birthday party, he'd hardly seen her since Voldemort's demise. Yet he was the one stuck here listening to her sob her heart out. He wondered if Fate was laughing at him. It was his father's successful mission that had caused her this misery, but it was also his father who'd saved her life. He realized that he would probably need to remind her of that to get what he wanted out of this visit.

When her sobs had finally quieted, he continued to sit, letting his hand rest platonically up near her shoulder blades. He was startled out of his thoughts when she sat up abruptly. He pulled his hand away just as quickly.

"Stay here," she instructed briskly, standing awkwardly and dashing off into her room. Draco stared at the door that swung closed behind her and listened to the distinct sounds of a running shower. He shook his head and went to get himself something to drink from the icebox. He was looking over her Potions assignment when she reappeared.

Hermione knew her eyes were still red with crying. She knew that her cheeks were puffy, though she'd managed to scrub away the tear tracks. And she knew that, since no one had seen her outside her apartment for weeks, this trip to the Ministry wasn't going to pleasant AT ALL. Draco looked up as she entered the kitchen.

"Come on, then," she said impatiently. She ignored his puzzled expression and led him out into the hallway, locking the door behind them with a key rather than a wand.

They walked in silence back to the Apparation point. "To the Ministry," she said shortly.

It was a brief meeting with Amelia Bones, but Hermione convinced her that her own testimony, added to that of Snape, and the hard evidence of the wand, would make it worth the Wizengamot's time to reopen the case. Madam Bones assured her that Severus would be summoned, as well as Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. The older woman did not look at Draco at all. She had already decided that Hermione Granger's appearance in the Ministry meant that they'd gone wrong somewhere with that case, and she avoided his eyes guiltily.

As they reemerged from the lift into the Main Lobby, they noticed a commotion – reporters. Draco, as quick on the uptake as could be expected, took Hermione's hand in a show of solidarity. But if he was afraid she would panic, he was mistaken. She looked up at him resignedly. "You knew this would happen?" he asked in a whisper, as Rita Skeeter began shouting impertinent questions in their direction. She, along with several other reporters Hermione didn't recognize, was being held back by a row of Ministry security officials.

"How could it not? If Severus could discover that I wasn't handing in my assignments, it was only a matter of time before someone else checked up on it, too. And who more likely than Rita, the nosey insect with a grudge against me?"

The reporters were between them and the exit. Draco, his fingers painfully pinched in Hermione's grip, watched as she squared her shoulders and approached the row of guards.

"I will give a statement if everyone will be silent. I will not answer questions." She spoke so softly that it was a wonder anyone heard, but the reporters fell silent immediately. Somewhere in Draco's mind the thought registered that she'd learned that trick from Severus. "I came to the Ministry today to see that Lucius Malfoy's case was reopened, and I have agreed to testify tomorrow afternoon. That is all the information we have for you at this time."

As soon as she finished speaking the questioning began, loud and uncouth, and led by Skeeter.

"Miss Granger, are you and Draco Malfoy dating?" Rita asked, teetering unpleasantly at the thought. She had clearly noticed their linked hands. Other questions rang out, as the other reporters talked over her, but the guards had already created a path for them to the Apparation point, and they reached it quickly, ignoring everyone now that the statement was given.

As they were still holding hands, Hermione Apparated them directly into her flat, something that could only be achieved by direct contact with her person, and only when SHE directed the spell. She dropped Draco's hand immediately, and slumped into the chair across from the couch, lighting the fireplace with her wand as she did so.

"This retrial tomorrow is going to be a zoo, isn't it?" Draco asked quietly. Hermione only nodded. Draco stood behind her chair for a moment, before making up his mind, then came around beside it and knelt down.

She was staring at the fire, but when he put a hand on her arm and called her name quietly, she looked over at him. "Thank you," he whispered. "You can't know what it will mean to me, and to my family, that you are doing this for us."

Hermione stared at him for a moment with shock before the expression changed to something more introspective. Draco noted a flash of distaste across her features and wondered what it meant. Perhaps she preferred his erstwhile arrogance? There was a time when he would not have thanked anyone for anything.

Hermione, however, was not thinking of his unprecedented gratitude. She was thinking that it was odd that she wasn't bothered when he'd rubbed her back earlier, that holding his hand had not frightened her in the least, and that the feel of his hand on her arm now was not causing her any actual discomfort. Even Ron's continual presence had been grating, and he was like a brother to her.

These thoughts gave rise to additional ones. It had troubled her, as she lay in bed the past weeks, that she might never achieve closeness with anyone as a result of her ordeal. She considered it a distinct possibility that fear might prevent her from ever having a romantic relationship of any kind. These thoughts, which had haunted her almost as thoroughly as her memories had done, gave rise to a sudden idea. It was this idea that had caused her fleeting look of distaste.

"Quid pro quo," Hermione said quietly.

Draco, who'd been expecting something along the lines of 'You're welcome,' was more than startled. He was, ever so slightly, afraid of what that might mean, coming from a Gryffindor. He stood quickly, and she looked up at him.

"And what favor do you have in mind?" he asked guardedly.

Hermione hesitated. "You don't have to agree. I'm not helping you because I expect something in return," she began. Draco almost rolled his eyes. Wasn't that, after all, the MEANING of quid pro quo? He stopped himself in time.

"What you mean is that when you originally agreed to help me, you had no thought of payment, which makes you a very generous person. Now that you've thought of something I can do for you, however, you expect me to be equally generous."

Hermione laughed. A friendly sounding chuckle, compared to her previous attempts at dry mirth. Draco couldn't help but smile. "Yes, exactly," she said. Then her smile fell away as quickly as it had come. "I need you to do this for me with no strings attached - no expectations of any kind for anything further." She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his agreement. He raised an eyebrow in question.

It occurred to her that he wasn't going to agree to that until he knew what she wanted. "I want you to kiss me," she said quickly. At the bizarre look that crossed his face, she began to dissemble. "But you can't grab me or hold me at all. Nothing to make me feel trapped or - " she was staring into his eyes. He was silent, and didn't look particularly happy.

"I need to know if I'll ever be able to - that is, if I can ever get past being afraid well enough to - "

He took pity on her stuttering and held up both hands. "Shall I put them behind my back?"

Hermione chuckled again out of nervousness, but nodded, watching as he complied. He then took a step closer to her, and tilted his head down. They both kept their eyes open, as he lowered his lips to hers. "Alright?" he asked, his breath washing over her, and more pleasant than she'd expected. She nodded again, ever so slightly.

Draco let himself close his eyes first, and took her bottom lip between his. With his arms behind his back, he had no way of knowing how tense she became, or whether he was doing what she wished. He moved his mouth against hers, for a brief instant worried that she was going to remain perfectly still. But then she was kissing him back, carefully. He closed what was left of the gap between them, and at the same time, ran his tongue along her lip. He could feel her chest against his, and was more than a little impatient for her to allow him a proper kiss. Once again she had frozen. He carefully kept his eyes closed, and continued to pull gently at her lips with his own.

Hermione's eyes had flown open when he moved closer, but she closed them again quickly, and parted her lips as he seemed to desire. She had kissed no one since Dolohov, and she couldn't help but compare. He'd been gentle with her, but there was always the undercurrent of possessiveness. He had felt that he owned her, and it wasn't to be born. Draco, on the other hand, while not shy about it, was certainly not possessive. It seemed clear to her that he felt she might run at any moment, and was prepared to allow it.

They kissed tentatively for several long moments before Hermione pulled away slowly. Draco grinned at her cheekily. "What's the verdict?" he asked.

"I haven't run screaming for the hills."

They shared a smile before Draco turned serious. "You're going to be alright, you know," he said with conviction, unclasping his hands.

Hermione looked at him hard for a moment. "I know," she said finally. "Now, go tell your mother the time of the trial, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Draco and Hermione said goodbye at the door, and Hermione turned and looked around her empty flat. It seemed remarkably quiet after all the company she'd had. The clock said it was only 7:00 PM. Making up her mind in an instant, Hermione waved her wand in the direction of the fireplace. A moment later her head appeared in the fireplace at the Burrow.

"Ronald Weasley, WHERE is my cat?" she demanded.


End file.
